


Deceptive Intentions

by leoraine



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoraine/pseuds/leoraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The CSIs have a new case and right from the start it turns all wrong, when one of their own is attacked. There's just too many lies hanging in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: First two chapters were un-betaed

Grissom and Nick just finished the scene and were walking back to the black Chevy Tahoe parked on the other side of the garages, carrying their kits and the evidence that they had collected. It took them several hours to process the scene and Nick was tired, not even trying to suppress the yawn, when someone called out at them.

Grissom turned to face the young officer.

"If you could..." The officer panted. He had clearly been trying to catch up with them for a while. "Detective Brass... he wanted to talk with you... your phone is switched off."

Grissom reached into his pocket for the phone and noticed the black display. He forgot to charge the batteries. With a sigh he looked at the younger CSI who had enough brain not to laugh at his chief so soon in the morning. Nick shrugged.

"Happens all the time. Mostly after double shifts," he said, reminding Grissom that they had been working on this scene for quite a long time now.

"Nick, give me your phone."

Nick put down the collected evidence and fished the cell from his pocket, then handed it to Grissom with a tired smile. After a short talk with Brass, Grissom hung up the phone and passed it to Nick.

"Brass has located our missing suspect, we need to go take a look at her," Grissom said, "You take the evidence back to the car and change the film in the camera, I´ll see you up there."

"I´ll be there in five," Nick said and headed for the car, while Grissom and the sergeant waited for the elevator to take them up to the 17th floor of the Grand Hotel.

xxxxxxxx

The Tahoe belonging to the CSI was parked on the farther end of the lot. Several cars passed Nick on his way. When he finally pulled out the keys and opened the back door of the van, he heard footsteps.

Nick put the case into the back and turned, thinking it was the sergeant. He didn´t even finish the move, when something hard connected with the side of his skull, right above his left ear. A moment of pain as his brain registered the blow, then only darkness. Nick was unconscious before his body hit the ground.

A man, clad in black, looked at his victim and let out a strangled sigh. The gun in his hand felt heavy and he would rather throw it away, but there was still some work to do. He rummaged through the evidence until he found what he was looking for. After several failures to open the sealed evidence bag with glowed hands, he took out his swiss knife and ripped open the evidence envelopes. He took out the contents, put it into his pocket. He repeated it with several other bags, so they wouldn´t know what he had really been searching for. He considered dragging the CSI into the car to give himself some extra time, but the shrill ringing of the phone put a hold on his thoughts.

When the ringing stopped, the CSi laying on the ground moaned. As Nick´s eyes slowly opened, first thing he saw was the ground. He blinked and tried to lift up on his arms, but a movement to his right get his attention. Nick didn´t had the time to react, when the heavy boot connected with his side. His body rolled and he caught a sight of black. Even in pain, his hand shot out to grab at his attacker. He felt the smooth fabric, then another kick sent him back to darkness. Nick´s fingers released their hold and the man jumped away, cursing.

He had what he wanted. Slamming the back door of the Tahoe closed, he started for a run towards the elevator, but the indicator moved and he knew someone was coming. Cutting his run, he turned to the staircase. The door to the stairs closed just as the elevator stopped and several people stepped out.

xxxxx

The grey fog in his mind gave way to the pain and another moan escaped his throat. Nick was lying on his side, his arm unconsciously protecting his ribs. The cement floor was cold and uncomfortable, but it provided a partial relief to the growing headache. He blinked and tried to discern what happened when he heard footsteps.

It all started with the footsteps and now Nick heard them again. Someone was coming. With a stiffled groan Nick propped himself up on his elbows and pulled closer to the car. A pang of fear shot through him with the thought that maybe the attacker changed his mind and wanted to finish what he started. But it was a familiar face looking down at him.

"Nick! Are you okay?" Grissom asked, shocked to find his CSI on the floor. He knelt down beside him and grimaced at the blood on Nick´s head.

"Y-yeah, I think so," Nick stuttered and tried to sit up, but Grissom pushed him back with ease.

"But you don´t look good. What happened?"

"I don´t-" Nick hissed as Grissom touched a particularly tender spot on his head. When he pulled off, his fingers were red from blood. "-know," Nick finished, slightly sick at the sight of his own blood. "I was just about to close the car... when my head exploded. When I came to... I saw a man in black clothes. Before I could get up... he kicked me again."

"Did you saw his face?"

"Nick?" Grissom snapped his fingers right before his face and Nick blinked. It was hard to focus on Grissom´s face as it was slightly spinning - just like everything else. It made him a little nauseous and Nick felt an urge to sit up.

"You okay?" Grissom asked with concern.

"Sorry, just zoned out. Can you help me up?"

"I don´t think it´s-"

"Or I´ll get sick. Gris?" Nick tried to sit up. His ribs protested as well as his head, but with Grissom´s help he managed.

"Better?"

"Uhm." Nick blinked dazedly.

"So it happened right after I left you?" Grissom was trying to get as much information as he could before Nick decided that he will get a little sleep.

"Mm," Nick mumbled and tried to focus on Grissom.

"That was a good quarter of a hour ago, Nick. You were out quite long." With a sigh Grissom stood and pulled out his cell, cursing once again as he realised the batteries were out.

"Where´s your cell?"

Nick indicated his pocket and Grissom took it, frowning at the three missed calls, all from him. He quickly dialed.

"Jim? We got a problem." Grissom sighed and looked at Nick.

"Yeah, I found him. Listen, I need you to look for a man, dressed in black. If you can, get someone to all exits. I want to know who left this hotel in the last fifteen minutes, or who´s leaving now. He attacked Nick-" Grissom paused. "Relatively speaking - yes. We´re in the parking lot on the third floor. Send here some paramedics, please."

"I´m fine," Nick protested and tried to prove it by standing up. He realized it wasn´t a good idea just as Grissom grabbed his arm and stopped his inevitable fall. With the movement, Nick´s shirt rolled up and revealed several bruises on his chest. Grissom glared at him, trying to navigate Nick safely back on the ground, while ending his call with Brass.

He then leaned down to Nick and gazed at his shirt. Nick frowned, not understanding the reason. He followed Grissom´s gaze, but saw only his dirty, bloodied shirt. The head wound only now stopped bleeding and Nick already felt lightheaded.

"What´s wrong, Gris?" Nick asked, confused by the intensity in his chief´s eyes. He knew that look well - Grissom used it to examine evidence.

"When did you messed up your shirt, Nicky?"

"Huh?"

"It´s dirty here and here - see?"

Nick looked down once again and tried to see something else than his own blood. And really, there was the dark, oily substance.

"Think it´s from his shoes?"

Grissom nodded. "We will get him, Nicky."

Nick only sighed in response. It was too close, once again. He shivered at the thought what could´ve happened, had the attacker been shooting instead of kicking.

While Nick was lost in his thoughts and fought to look much braver than he felt, Grissom took a quick look around. He noticed the opened back door of the Tahoe, also the several empty evidence bags, ripped open. They´ll need to check their logs but Grissom was almost sure that the case was compromised in one way or other. Gritting his teeth, Grissom turned as he heard a car approaching. He saw the red lights of the ambulance and walked toward it, navigating the driver so he wouldn´t disturb the secondary scene.

Just as the medics get out of the car, another man walked up to him. It was Brass and Grissom nodded to him.

"I´ll need his shirt as an evidence," Grissom told one of the paramedic, when they started assessing Nick´s condition.

"Of course, Sir," the man replied, then turned his full attention to the patient. Grissom watched as the young CSI protested that he´s just fine, then winced as the medic put a gauze at his head wound to definitely stop the bleeding. Seeing that the medics have all under control, Grissom took Brass to the side.

"So, what the hell happened?" asked the detective angrilly.

Grissom repeated what Nick told him and added that he found some marks on Nick´s shirt, probably from the attacker´s footwear.

"Fifteen minutes? That´s one hell of a time to get away," Brass sighed. "Okay, I closed down the garages, thought you would like to take a look first."

Grissom´s lip turned up in a slight smile.

"What about the exits?"

"There´s five other exits, Grissom. I had three free men, but I put there also some guys from the hotel security. They´re checking everyone leaving - writing down their names. I can tell you people are not happy."

"I´m not happy either," Grissom said and Brass saw a glint of guilt in his eyes.

"Look, Griss - this wasn´t your fault-"

"My fault or not, Brass... this could´ve ended much worse than a beating. Nick could´ve been killed." Grissom hissed, then shot a look at Nick. Thankfully the man didn´t hear them, he was fully occupied with responding to questions from the paramedics.

"But he didn´t. What does it tell you?" Brass was trying to turn Grissom´s mind to more important things.

"That Nick wasn´t the primary target. I think he was just in the way."

Brass nodded.

"What about the car? Was something stolen?"

"I found few bags ripped open, empty. I think he stole some evidence, but I can´t be sure until I check the logs."

"Sir? We´re ready to go." One of the paramedics approached them, while the other fastened Nick on the stretcher. He looked pale, face screwed up in grimace, but alive.

"You taking him in?"

"Desert Palms. Probably concussion and those ribs need an x-ray. But he should be okay," the paramedic assured them.

"Okay, I´ll follow you in my car-" Grissom paused. He just realized he forgot to call his team and there´s a new scene to secure. Not to mention that his car was now an evidence. "Or rather I´ll stop by as soon as I can," Grissom shot Nick an apologetic look, but the young CSI understood.

"That´s okay, Gris. I´ll just rest up a bit," Nick mumbled sleepily, as the medics put the stretcher into the ambulance.

Grissom watched as the car pulled away then picked out his phone and called Warrick. He gave him a short version of what happened and finished with: "I need you and Sara here as soon as possible."

He then turned at Brass, who was also talking into his cell.

"No, keep her there until I say else." The voice on the other side protested and Brass said a little more harshly: "I don´t care if she´s tired! She´s a suspect and she´s staying where she is. And you´re there as a guard not a waitress, so damn hell tell her that!" With that Brass ended the call and looked at Grissom, perplexed.

"Just what the hell are these young made from? He´s whining that she´s whining... damn it, this isn´t a party."

Grissom merely raised his eyebrows.

"You´re still keeping the girl here?" he asked.

"Technically, she isn´t arrested. I can´t even say she´s a suspect. But I´ll interview her at the station. For now - I need you to take her shirt as an evidence."

"I think Sara will do a good job on that. I´ll need to go to the hospital and talk with Nick. Hope he´ll be able to tell me more."

Brass nodded. He knew the older man wanted to take some samples, to gather all the evidence Nick was able to offer, but he also knew that Grissom cared about his people. He won´t say it straight away, but he was sure the CSI wanted to be sure Nick wasn´t hurt worse than they thought. Brass understood and didn´t felt the need to voice his thoughts, he simply nodded at Grissom.

"We still don´t have a motive, Grissom. Was it the killer or just the thief? Why didn´t he took the whole car? Why leaving Nick alive if he already killed someone?"

"Good questions. I don´t have the answers - yet. But I´ll get them." With that Grissom turned and carefully walked to the Tahoe, his eyes taking in the smallest details.

xxxxx

Warrick and Sara arrived almost simultaneously. They found Grissom kneeling on the ground, looking under the car.

"Bomb?"

Grissom get up and brushed off the dirt from his trouser.

"Nah, just looking."

"How´s Nick?"

"Beaten up. They took him to Desert Palms."

Warrick grimaced, thinking about the last time Nick was there like a patient. It was when Warrick left Nick to go inside Crane´s house alone, so he could make a call. He wasn´t prepared to see his friend flying through the air and he was more than scared when he found Nick on the ground, unconscious and looking almost dead. Shuddering, Warrick pushed away the memory and concentrated on Grissom.

"So, what´s the plan? Should we process the car?"

"Yeah, that´s one of the things. The car is the primary scene, the parking lot the secondary. I think you ought to check also the stairwell, he could´ve run that way."

"What about me?" Sara asked, seeing that Warrick got the scene.

"You will go up to the 17th floor and find Brass. He should be with our suspect." Grissom unconsciously winced at the word as Brass made it clear they can´t arrest the girl, but then he thought about Nick and decided that everyone concerned in this case should be a suspect.

"You should take photos of the stains on her blouse and a sample for chemical analysis. Ah, and take a look at her shoes."

"Any reason?" Sara asked, eyebrows arched in suspicion.

"The man that attacked Nick knew what he was searching for. That means he was for A. the killer, or for B. an accomplice. Either way, he had some knowledge about the crime. Nick had the same oily stains on his shirt where the attacker kicked him as that women on her blouse. I want to know where was she walking in the last twenty-four hours. After you finish, collect the videotapes from the security - I want the tapes from the cameras on all the exits, the garages, the elevator - if there´s any."

"What about the first scene?"

"We already processed it," Grissom sighed. "You won´t find there anything. The evidence is in the car, but it was probably tampered with. We´ll check the logs at the lab. Any questions?"

"No, but what are you doing to do?"

"I´m going into Desert Palms and talk with Nick."

xxxXXXxxx

Sara Sidle stepped out of the elevator on the 17th floor and headed towards the group standing in the hall. Jim Brass was talking with a maid. She was trying to clean the room and Brass had a hard time to explain her it is not possible, because it´s a crime scene. Sara had to smile when the cleaner angrilly turned and with fluent spanish spat out several curses. Brass only shook his head and looked at Sara.

"You met with Gris?"

"Yeah. So - what´d we got?"

"I take it you´ll want to see the scene first."

Sara nodded and Brass raised the yellow tape indicating it´s a crime scene.

"Paul Maton, thirty one year old male, caucasian. Three stab wounds to the upper chest. He was lying there, face down," Brass pointed at the white outline representing the position of the body. There was a red pool of drying blood. Several splashes decorated the wall behind the body as well as the carpet. The furniture looked to be in place, no signs of a fight. It would mean that the victim knew the killer and he - or she - probably surprised him.

"Were there signs of self defense on his body?"

"No, not a scratch other than the knife wounds. I think the coroner will tell you more though. All the wounds looked deadly to me."

"Who found him?"

"Pizza boy from delivery service. Our victim ordered a big Hawaian pizza at 2:35 a.m. The pizza boy delivered it fifteen minutes later - 2:50."

"Can I talk with him?"

"He´s already home, but I can give you his statement if it will do."

"Go on," Sara replied to Brass, who pulled out his notes.

"O-kay, here it is. Jasper Barnes. 18 y ol, working for the Guiseppino Pizza Delivery service for the last three months. He´s saving money for school. He knocked on the door at 2:50. There was no reply, but he heard voices.

Pizza in one hand, the other on the door. The hall was silent but he could hear voices - coming from the room. Curious now and not wanting to return with the pizza, Jasper touched the knob. It was futile, because the door had an electronic lock and could be opened only with a card, but when he touched it, the door slightly opened. Peeking in, Jasper called out, still in the hallway.

"Mister? Your pizza is here!"

When no one replied, he pushed the door wide open and took a step inside. The hallway was small and there was just one door leading to the bathroom. He got further into the room and stopped. The TV was tuned at CNN and there was a bottle of Champagne, half empty on the stool. The body lie face down in a pool of blood in the middle of the room. Jasper gasped, the box of pizza fell from his hands. He turned and ran out to the hall, where he started screaming for help.

"Was anyone else in the room between the cops and Grissom?"

"The screaming woke up several guests. They automatically called it down to the reception, complaining. The receptionist came up, tried to calm Jasper enough for him to talk. When the boy said there was a body in the room, the receptionist peeked in and called the police along with his chief. The hotel doctor just checked the body for pulse then left the room."

"Great, so there are at least three other people contaminating the scene," Sara sighed. "Do you have any news about the guy that attacked Nick?"

"I interviewed several people from the parking staff, but no one saw anything unusual. This is Vegas! They would notice a man in black only if he had an axe in his head, or no head at all," Brass said in frustration. "But I´m going to talk with the guys from the security and the receptionist. I´ll need the full list of guests. Oh, by the way. There´s a girl waiting for you. She´s a uhm, girlfriend of our victim. We assume she was there tonight, but we don´t know when had she left."

"So how did you found her?" Sara asked, perplexed.

"She came herself," Brass said with a grin.

xxxxx

The girl was sitting on the couch and sipping hot coffee. The sergeant which was assigned to her was currently sitting opposite her on a chair, smiling like an idiot when she winked at him. Brass coughed to announce his presence and the young man jumped from the chair, looking rather startled.

Sara supressed a grin and looked at the girl. She automatically stiffened, even though she cast them a polite smile.

"I´m Sara Sidle, with the Las Vegas crime lab." The girl´s smile instantly vanished, leaving a nervous face.

"Can I go now?" she asked, her eyes pendling between Sara, Brass and the other cop.

"I´m sorry, you´ll have to stay a little longer. Can you tell me what happened?"

Sara crouched next to the girl and looked at her blouse. There were several oily fingerprints on the left shoulder, as if someone grabbed her. The girl probably didn´t even realize it.

"What´s your name?"

"Brenda... Lacke," she said, hesitantly.

"Uhm, Brenda, where did you soil your blouse like that?"

"What?" Brenda looked down in surprise and only now spotted the smudges. "I-I don´t know. Really. What´s the matter? Why can´t I go home?"

"Because your friend was murdered. Was he your friend?"

"N-no... I... am I in trouble?"

"Brenda, can I take a sample from your blouse?"

"What?"

"Do you have some things here with you?"

"Here? No, at home. I don´t understand anything."

"Brenda - how old are you?"

"Twenty-two. What-"

"You live in Las Vegas?"

"Yes, of course I live there. I was born there. Why are you asking-"

"How long do you know Paul Maton?" Brass asked, not letting her finish the question and pulled out his notes.

"A week, maybe longer."

Both Sara and Brass looked up, surprised.

"But you shared a hotel room? Even if you had an apartment in the city?"

"Well, it wasn´t like we... you know," Brenda blushed. "I... we were in contact through the net for almost a year by now, so... I knew him. Never saw him before, but we mailed. Just a week ago he wrote me that he´ll be coming to Vegas - for some business trip. So we met and talked more..."

"So were you sleeping in his room, or just visiting like a friend?"

Brenda´s face now turned crimson and she had a downcast eyes.

"First just visiting. Then I stayed a little longer and well - I stayed for the night. It´s not like we did anything bad," she suddenly looked up, her eyes defiant. Sara tried to calm her with a gentle smile.

"No, of course not. When did you last see him?"

"Y-yesterday. I spent the night there. We had lunch together, then I left."

"Where did you go?"

"Home. I needed some sleep.I was due for a night shift and I needed some rest. I woke up by five, get something to eat. By eight I was in the store."

"Where do you work?"

"At a 24/7. I usually work day shift, but sometimes I get a job at night. They´re paying more."

"So you finished in the shop and what - came straight here? In five in the morning?"

"Y-yes. He said I can come whenever I want... that he´ll be up anyway..." her eyes treared up and she started sobbing. "Then I came there and I saw the blood... and his body, taken away, and all the cops..."

Sara got up and brought her water, she took it and after a while calmed down. When she looked up at them, her eyes were red and puffy, but her voice was calm.

"I never saw so much blood before. W-what happened to him?"

"We are trying to find out, Ms. Lacke." Brass looked at his watches, then at Sara.

"Brenda... we will need your blouse. Will you change if I bring you some shirt?"

"What? Why do you want it?"

"We just need to take some samples."

"But why? I didn´t kill him! What are you trying to do?"

"Calm down Brenda, please. It´s just a routine procedure to rule you out as a suspect."

"But I didn´t do it!" Brenda get off the chair and started pacing, conscious of the fact that Brass had his hand close to the holster with his gun. Also there was the other sergeant, who now stood in the hall.

"Where did you soil your blouse, Brenda?"

"I don´t know," she snapped.

"Where was you between 2:00 and 3:00 in the morning?"

"At the shop!"

"Really?"

"Yes, ask Brandon. He was there with me." Sara watched her closely, saw the glint in her eyes and looked at Brass. He saw it too and nodded.

"I´ll be back in a minute," Sara said. It took her a little longer, but when she returned she had a shirt with her.

"I have a spare clothing in the car," she explained to Brass. "Here, take this and I´ll take the blouse."

"Is this really necessary?"

"It is. Look, we just need to check it for evidence, then it will be returned to you."

Brenda sighed and pointedly looked at Brass. As the older cop realize why, he quickly excused himself and left the room.

Two minutes later, Sara walked out with the blouse in the evidence bag, and Brenda in her shirt.

xxxxx

"Hi, I´m Gil Grissom, from the Las Vegas crime lab. One of my people was brought in a moment ago. His name is Nick Stokes." Grissom smiled at the bulky receptionist sitting behind the pult. The women looked up at him, seemingly bored.

"Are you his relative?"

"No, I´m his colleague."

"I´m sorry, we can give out informations only to relatives-"

"His parents are in Texas, we are the nearest to relatives you would get today. Madam, I am trying to find out who attacked him. I need to know how he is." Grissom showed her his ID.

The woman looked him up and down, then with a sigh turned to the computer. After several moments, Grissom got the name of the doctor treating Nick along with the information that he needs to wait until they´re finished with all the tests.

Grissom thanked and walked into the waiting room. He found an empty chair and sit down. He unconsciously took down his glasses and started playing with them. This case turned out to be more complicated by every moment. Grissom thought about the parfume he felt in the bathroom. The same odour, only not so strong, accompanied Brenda Lacke, when he met with her in the hotel. Only then he was silently fuming at Nick because he was nowhere to be seen and Grissom wanted to take samples. He called Nick several times, but when the young CSI didn´t reply to his calls, Grissom got nervous. He left the girl with Brass, and frowning all his way down to the parking lot thought about Nick wandering off. Fuming, he already prepared the lecture, when he spotted Nick, lying on the ground. His face was dark from blood and in that moment, before Nick moved and proved he´s still alive, Grissom´s heart stopped. For the moment Grissom thought Nick was dead, and that he was the one responsible for it. That he screwed up a big time, because one of the rules in this job was never leave a criminalist alone on the scene, gathering evidence. He made a mistake that could cost Nick his life. There was no excuse for it.

"Mr. Grissom?" A voice brought him out of his thoughts and Grissom was thankful for that. This wasn´t the right place, nor the time to dwell in regret. He had a work to do.

"That´s me," Grissom stood and walked up to the doctor. His nametag read and for once he wasn´t looking younger than Greg. The man could´ve been in Grissom´s age, only his hair was a darker shade of brown.

"How´s Nick?"

"You´re his friend or investigating the case?"

"Both, so you can give me a little more elaborate version."

The doctor nodded and pointed to the door.

"I believe you want to see him. Mr. Stokes sustained a hard blow to the head. He got a mild concussion. We were a little concerned by the length of his loss of consciousness, as the paramedics got the information it was probably more than five minutes. But there was no lasting amnesia, no fractures and the CT came back as normal. Though we´re still keeping him here for observation. He got several bruised ribs and there´s a possibility of internal bleeding from the bruised liver. But all in all, I think he got lucky. A little harder blow to the head..." The doctor stopped and pointed at the door.

"We´re here. Will you need something else, Mr. Grissom?"

"The clothes he was brought in. It´s evidence."

"Of course. I´ll tell the nurse. Stop by the reception to pick it up. Do you want to use this?" Dr. Frieman looked at the kit in Grissom´s hand and at the camera hanging on his chest. Grissom simply nodded.

"Try not to disturb the other patients. And don´t agitate him, okay? He needs rest."

Dr. Frieman left and Grissom hesitated only for a second, before entering the room.

Nick lie in the bed next to the window. He had a small bandage right above his left ear, a pretty shiner right below his eye. He looked tense, arms curled around his ribs. His eyes were closed but he turned when Grissom drawed the curtains so they won´t bother the other two patients on the adjacent beds.

"Hey," Nick said and tried to smile, but it came out blank as he grimaced in pain.

"You shouldn´t try to move around too much," Grissom adviced him, seeing Nick was trying to sit up. Nick blow out a breath and stopped trying to find a more comfortable position. His insides were in fire, the ribs didn´t hurt less just because they weren´t broken. But he was trying not to show his pain before Grissom. He don´t wanted to look like a cry baby, not before Grissom, anyway.

"You know what happened?" Nick asked, then noticed the camera and the kit. He shot Grissom a startled look, but it vanished quickly. Grissom saw it though and sighed.

"I just need to take few photos, Nick. Will it be okay?" he carefully asked.

Nick gulped and slowly nodded.

"Good. What about you tell me what you remember?"

When Nick again nodded, Grissom gently rolled down the blanket. He almost hissed at the big, angry looking bruise just under Nick´s ribcage and several other bruises marking his chest. While he worked with the camera, Nick looked out of the window. It was already light outside and it was time people started to get up, though in Vegas even the nights wasn´t calm.

"I didn´t see him good. Just a black blur. But it was a man, I´m sure."

"Do you know what did he hit you with?"

"I saw a gun in his hand. Think it was a Glock, but I´m not sure." Nick rubbed his nose, praying the pain behind his eyes could just vanish and let him sleep. Grissom already pulled the blanket back up to his chin, and packed the camera away.

"Can you remember some details? How did he smell?"

Nick looked confused.

"No... I don´t know, Gris. I just woke up and grabbed at him, when he kicked me again. I didn´t have time to smell something."

"You grabbed at him?" Grissom asked, curious. "How? I mean, did you scratch him?"

"No," Nick frowned. "No, I just grabbed his pants. I doubt it left some bruise on him."

"Can you show me your hands, Nicky?"

Nick blinked, then ever so slowly moved his hands. Grissom looked at his nails and turned towards his kit. When he turned back to Nick, he clutched a spattle and a small container.

"W-what are you looking for?"

"Fibers or dirt," Grissom slowly replied and scraped under Nick´s nails.

"I doubt you´ll get anything," Nick commented, feeling slightly nauseous. He didn´t know if it was due to the concussion or the fact that Grissom was treating him just like any other case. Nick hated feeling like a victim, but even more to be a piece of evidence. He wasn´t blaming Grissom, he knew it´s just a way any of the criminalists would approach the case, but somewhere deep inside it hurt. Old feelings resurfaced and Nick grit his teeth, turning to the window.

Grissom looked at him, confused by the sudden change.

"You all right, Nicky? Should I call the doctor?" Grissom asked, thinking Nick was in pain.

"N-no, I´m okay. Just tired. Can we... can we leave it for later, Gris?"

"I´m finished, Nick." Grissom put the kit away and stood. He opened his mouth, but shut it as he didn´t know what to say. After a moment of silence he patted Nick´s shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Nicky. We will take care of everything."

Nick nodded, his eyes already closed. Grissom was already by the door, when he heard Nick mutter:

"I would like to take care of myself, just once in my life."

But he was too far to be sure and Nick looked asleep. With a sigh, Grissom left the room and hoped the CSI will be able to gain control over his life - once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter was un-betaed

Sara found him at the staircase, dusting the door handle for prints. Warrick spared her a quick glance and reached for the tape and lift cards.

"Have some good?"

"Three complete, two partial from the handle. I already took two complete from the other side."

"You know it´s a blind shot?"

Warrick looked at her, cocking his head.

"Why do you think?"

"Well, this is a parking lot. Plenty of people use this staircase..."

"I don´t think so. The building has 25 storeys, another three under ground for the parking lot. That´s a lot of stairs."

Sara only shrugged. It won´t do any harm to take the prints.

"How did the interview go?" Warrick asked as he finished with the door and stood, stretching out his long back.

Sara thought for a moment before answering.

"She´s hiding something, that´s obvious. Though her statement sits for now."

Warrick nodded, looking grim.

"Why the hell did Grissom leave Nick alone - with the evidence!"

Sara turned at Warrick, surprised by the anger in his voice.

"Are you blaming him?" she asked, unbelieving. Warrick glared at her and started packing away the fingerprint kit, heading back for Grissom´s car.

"Nick could be dead," he said in angry whisper and Sara shook her head. It made sense that Warrick will relate to what happened the last year, but Sara thought unfair to blame Grissom for something that Warrick had done twice before himself.

"If I remember, few months ago it was you letting Nick walk into Crane´s apartment, all alone," she reminded him and Warrick blushed, but his anger didn´t go away like she thought.

"Yeah, and it was also me who left Holly Gribbs alone, and be killed! That´s what you wanted to say, Sara!"

"Whoa," she raised her hands, eyes wide from shock. She would never remind him of Holly, she knew how guilty Warrick felt.

"I´m sorry. I shouldn´t said that about Crane - and I wouldn´t ever mention Gribbs. My point was - everyone can do a mistake. You, Grissom, Nick. There´s just no point in casting blame when there´s no one at fault. Yeah, it was a bad luck for Nick. But he´s relatively okay and we still have a case to solve. So better concentrate on that."

Warrick looked at her and after a moment nodded.

"I´m sorry too. I shouldn´t lash out like that."

Sara let out a relieved smile.

"Okay. Peace?"

"Peace," Warrick replied. "Now, what are you doing down here?"

"Just gotta put the evidence in the car. I´ll now go and retrieve the tapes from the security."

Warrick absently nodded, already concentrating on the scene.

xxxx

Not only was Brenda Lacke short of her shirt, now they also took her shoes. It irritated her and she showed it by angry stares thrown at Brass and Sara, who were sitting on the other end of the table. She spared a disdainful glance at the mirror that was in fact an observation glass and wondered how many other are watching her. In reality there was only Grissom.

"I don´t understand why are you keeping me here," Brenda protested.

"It´s just a routine," Brass said.

"Then let me go."

"Sorry, can´t. That´s also a routine - we´re not letting you go before you answer our questions."

"I want my lawyer."

"Do you have one?" Brass asked in feigned surprise. Brenda blushed and looked at Sara, looking for some support. But there was none.

"Am I arrested or what?"

"No, you´re not," Brass sighed out, more tired than he wanted to show.

"Look, I´m sitting here two hours, if not more, alone. I have my life, you know. I need to go home."

"Right after you answer our questions."

"So ask them, damn it!" she sweared. "What are you waiting for?"

"We wanted to check your alibi so we went to the store you´re working at. You are right - Brandon said you were here till 4:30, then you left."

Brenda smiled, satisfied.

"But-" Sara continued and the smile vanished.

"We know for sure that Brandon was lying."

"What?"

"Before you tell us any more lies, think about this. The camera at the store recorded your arrival at eight p.m. yesterday. Just as your departure by one in the morning today. So - do you want to rephrase your statement?"

Brenda was silent, her eyes watering. For a moment she looked like she´ll start crying, but it quickly passed as Brenda jumped from her seat.

"I didn´t kill him!" she screamed at them. "I would never kill Paul. He was a good guy, had family, kids. What do you think I am? A monster!"

"Ms. Lacke - I would prefer if you sit down," Brass said calmly, though he was tense. Brenda shook her head, angrilly glaring at the mirror as if it could be responsible for everything. Grissom almost jerked when she looked straight at him, even though she couldn´t see him.

"Brenda, sit down. If you didn´t kill him, it would be better if you talk with us. Most of the evidence is pointing at you. We need to know what happened - so stop lying." Brenda looked at Sara, taken aback by her words. After a minute she sat down.

"We can prove you was in the hotel room at the time of the murder." Brass said and Brenda´s eyes widened.

"How?"

"You know, even if you took the elevator from the garages, there is the camera at the entry, not to mention the clerk at the gate. They both showed us that you came to the hotel sometimes after one in the morning, in your car. You then left, also in your own car at 2:45 - as the clerk stated, you was in hurry."

Brenda was for once silent. She looked up at Sara and slowly nodded.

"Okay, I was there when he was killed. But I swear - I don´t know who did it!"

"I was just getting out of the shower. Paul was ordering pizza - he was always hungry after-" Brenda paused, blushing.

"I heard someone knocking on the door, and wondered that it was really fast. I know it was silly. You must understand that I didn´t saw anything. All my clothes were in the room so I wasn´t planning to go out of the bathroom."

"Please, continue," Sara urged her.

"II was just combing my hair and - you know, jsut waiting for whomever it was to leave. But he didn´t and I heard Paul asking:

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought we cleared it out. I want nothing to do with you!" Paul Maton shouted. Brenda in the bathroom jerked, her hand with the comb stopping in midway. She stepped closer to the door, and listened.

"You thought wrong, Maton. We will make business, if you want or not. I won´t let you stop me! Not now, after everything I did for you!" The other voice was angry and Brenda heard steps.

"What - God, put that down!" Paul yelped in scare and there was a grunt. Something was knocked over and broke, probably a vase. Brenda bit at her lip as she heard a pained gasp and several blunt blows. She was clutching the towel around her, the other hand touching the doorknob, ready to lock the door.

"Damn the bastard!" the man cursed and the next thing Brenda heard was the closing of the door.

"I waited a minute, wanting to make sure the man is gone. Only then I looked out and saw... oh God, I saw him... and the blood..." Brenda sobbed. "I-I got scared and... I - I left him there! I just grabbed my clothes and ran out..." she hiccuped, accepting the handkerchief Sra handed her. After she cleaned her face, she turned at Sara.

"Was... was he alive? I mean, if I´d had called 911, would he-"

"No, there was nothing they could´ve done to save him. He was dead almost instantly."

"Thank God," Brenda sighed out, then startled by her own words tried to stutter an apology.

"I didn´t mean it like that - I meant - that - oh," she had given up.

"Ms. Lacke," Brass started after she calmed down enough to talk again. "Why didn´t you call the police or the reception? Why had you ran away?"

"B-because I was scared... I never saw a dead body before and... I was afraid, that maybe the killer will return and he - he will kill me!" The fear in her eyes wasn´t played, Sara was sure of that.

"Why did you lie to us then, Brenda?" she asked.

"I don´t know. Maybe I was afraid that you´ll think I killed him... I don´t know." Brenda shrugged.

"And you still returned to the scene?" Brass wondered loudly.

"Y-yeah. I knew you will... you´ll find out I was in contact with Paul. Some guys from the reception knew me I am sure I left few of my things in the room. I-I just needed some time to calm down, then I realized I should probably talk to the police..."

"But you still lied when we met."

"I am sorry. I know I shouldn´t - but seeing it all... what if the man will realize someone else was there? What then?"

"We can protect you."

Brenda shook her head.

"I never saw him. I don´t know who he is."

"What about his voice? Was there anything strange about the way he talked? Accent maybe?"

Brenda thought of it, but shook her head.

"He didn´t say too much. I don´t know."

"Where did you go after you left the room?"

"Down to the parking lot to my car. I then drived through the city, trying to clear my head. That´s all."

"Ah, and what about your blouse? Do you know where it got dirty?"

"When I... when I was getting out of the car, some homeless man grabbed me - wanted some change. I was startled and ran away."

"Okay, the last question. Did you use parfume in the hotel?" Sara asked.

Brenda looked first confused, then her lips twitched in slight smile.

"It was a test ample of Channel 5 - from the Cosmopolitan I bought on my way there. W-when I was in the shower I knocked it over and it flowed down the sink. I´m pretty clumsy sometimes." As she remembered the moments preceding the death of Paul Maton, her mode quickly changed and she grew restless.

"Look, can I go home?"

Sara and Brass exchanged looks, then Brass nodded.

"Right after we take your fingerprints. And stay in the city."

xxxx

"Do you believe her?" Brass asked as he walked into the observation room. Grissom was watching how Sara took the girl´s fingerprints, then looked at him.

"About the part that she was in the bathroom? Yes. About she didn´t see the killer? I don´t know."

Brass sighed.

"Why are you letting her go?" Grissom asked as Sara finished the job and Brenda was escorted out of the room.

"Because I think she had a complice. I doubt she could kill the victim - Maton was strong and did you see the wounds? Pretty deep. Anyway - someone attacked Nick and stole the murder weapon - the knife. Warrick is still checking up with your logs. There were also several other items, but they could´ve been just a diversion-"

"Or it was the murder weapon. I don´t know Jim, but something´s not right here."

"Yeah, and that´s the reason I put a surveilance on Brenda Lacke. I sent two guys at her place, but they checked with the neighbours and she wasn´t home from yesterday morning. If she had a complice, she´ll contact him sooner or later. And we can get them."

"What about the motive?"

Brass let out a frustrated sigh.

"I don´t have all the answers, Gris. But the case is pretty clear. Once she´ll contact him - we get them both."

Grissom only shook his head. Something just wasn´t right.

xxxXXXxxx

"Catherine - what are you doing here?" Sara asked, surprised to find the older woman walking out from Dr. Robbins workroom. She thought the mother was already home with her daughter.

"My car crash victim. Who would say that a forty-five year old man would start with drugs."

"Maybe an old habit?"

Catherine wearily shook her head.

"No, he was clear up till yesterday. Then he won two thousand dollars and somewhere bought a pill. Guess nobody told him not to drive in drugged state."

Sara clicked her tongue.

"You going home?"

"Yeah, there´s nothing more to do for now. Detective Francis has some suspects - but they´re available only by midnight. What about you?"

"I´m just gonna look at our victim, then I´m outta here. Hope I can catch a little shut-eye."

"Did you see Nick?"

"Yeah, stopped by the way to the lab. He was groggy though. Looked troubled, too. But didn´t want to talk about it, so I rather left. Maybe when they release him he´ll be in better mood." Sara wasn´t sure of it, but she had a feeling Nick´s problem was somehow related to Grissom.

"I think I will stop by on my way home," Catherine thought out loud.

"Just be carefull, so he won´t bite off your head."

Catherine smiled at the comment, knowing well enough how moody Nick could be when incapacitated. Lindsay wasn´t an angel too, when she hurt.

"I´ll manage. What about the case? Do you have a clue as to who attacked Nick?"

"Still working on it," Sara said and they parted, Catherine heading for the lockers and Sara to the morgue. Dr. Al Robbins was changing his gloves and covering the body of the car crash victim. On the other table lie Paul Mason.

For a thirty-one year old man, he looked younger. Thick, black hair was cut short, almost army like. He was tall and even though probably wasn´t making out in the gym every day, had a good figure. Paul Mason was a man that girl might have liked.

"I heard you have a suspect - it´s a woman?" Al Robbins started, looking up at Sara from behind the mask.

"Yes. Did you find anything that would indicate it could be her?"

"Well, I doubt it, but lets first look at the body." Dr. Robbins pulled down the blanket but left it covering the vaist of the corpse.

"We have a caucasian male, thirty one year old. Height 5ft'10, 162 lb. Up till the time of death he was in good health. An older fracture of the tibia on the right leg, healed up nicely. Now for the cause of death.

There are several stab wounds. One hit the liver, second broke through the sternum and damaged the heart. The third one caught him in the stomach, this one was the most harmless, as it didn´t hit any internal organs, 'only' nicked an artery. All in all... the man died from heavy blood loss and shock. It was a quick and brutal assault."

"Would he´d had a chance if an ambulance was called in time?"

Dr. Robbins shook his head.

"No, even if they were there in the moment he fell to the floor, they could´ve done nothing to save him. Every one of the three wounds was fatal."

Sara took in a breath, trying to concentrate on Dr. Robbins, rather than the lifeless body. How easily could it be one of them...

"Why did you ask if our suspect is a woman?" she suddenly asked.

"You see, the force and violence of the attack... also the height of the kille - just doesn´t fit a woman. To broke through the sternum, it takes much strength. And even if I heard of very brutal attacks by woman who were abused, or murders in affect, I doubt she would be capable of it. Of course, I don´t know how big or strong your suspect is."

"Maybe 5foot '5, not more. And she is lean. Not to mention there was no blood on her clothes, though she had a time to change."

"Anyway, I assume from the trajectory of the wounds that the attacker was taller than the victim. Also he was right handed."

"Brenda is a leftie," Sara sighed as she remembered her scribbling down her signature on the statement.

"I would look for another suspect, if I were you." Dr. Robbins said and covered up the corpse.

xxxx

It was on the next shift that things started to move. After several hours of rest - which most of the team members were practically forced to take, they returned to work. They counted it lucky that there wasn´t any new case and they all could concentrate on Paul Mason and the related attack on Nick.

Grissom was leaning over the microscope, studying the fibers they found near the body.

"This looks like terry cloth," he mumbled and frowned. The fibers were originally white, but now stained with red.

"Maybe towell?" suggested Warrick and leaned closer to the microscope. Grissom shrugged.

"Or a terry bathrobe."

"Which you found in the bedroom. Okay, what does it tell us?"

"It could´ve been there before the murder happened. Or - she wore it when coming out of the bathroom. She was near the body, then took her clothes from the bed, leaving the bathrobe there."

"But the bathrobe was in the bathroom and there are no blood stains on the robe."

"Maybe we should´ve asked if Mason hadn´t asked for another bathrobe." Warrick said. Grissom shot him a look and after a thought nodded.

"She could´ve taken her´s and dispose of it while she was gone. We know she didn´t kill him - but she´s lying to us, either way."

"Yeah. If she had the bathrobe, she probably wasn´t afraid to go into the room. But if the killer saw her..."

"He didn´t. If the killer wasn´t her complice - which I don´t believe is true, because then they could´ve taken whatever they wanted from the scene - no reason to attack Nick."

"So what are you suggesting, Grissom? That we´re dealing with two different things? One is the murder, second is the attack on Nick?" Warrick didn´t believe that those two things were not related.

"They are. We just don´t know how, yet."

With a frustrated sigh, Warrick turned back to the meticulous job of taking fingerprints from every object they collected, while Grissom silently watched him. He knew Warrick was angry at him because of what happened to Nick, but he also knew it has more to do with Warrick´s earlier mishaps then anything else. Though he didn´t blame the young man for it - he knew the best just what could´ve happened.

He never again wanted to see one of his people down, hurt or dead. He didn´t want to feel that cold pain that filled him the moment he thought Nick was dead.

But Grissom knew he couldn´t quit with the job, just like Nick won´t quit. Because even if there were risks, it was deep inside all of them. Maybe one time they´ll burn out like candles, but till then, this job was all they had.

Sara cleared her throat and both men looked at her. Grissom frowned, seeing the snug grin on her face.

"Okay, folks... I have two files. You can choose."

"Two files?" Warrick repeated, not knowing what she´s talking about. Grissom raised his eyebrows, curious.

"The footage from the garages. I have two suspicious men, each one left the hotel in the time Nick was attacked. None of them had a room in the hotel, both wore dark clothes." Sara already put the tape into the video. They saw a man with a bag getting into a blue Isuzu and making a hasty retreat. The licence plate on the car was from California. The second film showed them a hispanic man, getting into a yellow van. There was a huge sign on the side of the van stating that the car belongs to the LV Nonstop Towing & Repair.

"The van is registered under Mitch Kaslinsky, an owner of the service station. It wasn´t reported as stolen. But I can tell you for sure that man wasn´t Mitch Kaslinsky. He´s at least ten years older and caucasian."

Grissom twitched his lips, watching as the yellow van rode out of the parking lot.

"Which floor was this taken at?" Warrick asked.

"The first, Nick was attacked on the third. I have also the video from the elevators, but the man used the stairs. He was in hurry, though."

"He had a reason, too." Greg Sanders stood in the door, grinning like an idiot. His smile faltered a little when he saw Grissom, but he had results and that was all that mattered.

"What did you find, Greg?" Grissom asked, cocking his head at the young lab tech.

"You remember the stains on Nick´s shirt? And the stains on the blouse of that girl? Well, they´re identical. Wanna guess what they were from?"

No one said anything.

"Motor oil. And before you ask, Grissom - it´s the most used type in U.S."

Grissom frowned, looking back at the paused video, then at Sara.

"Service station?"

Sara grinned.

"Get the adress, I´m calling Brass. I think I need to check out my car."

xxxx

Mitch Kaslinsky wasn´t very surprised by the unexpected visit of several police officers and the two CSI´s. Brass sent the cops to look around for their suspect, then along with Grissom and Sara followed Kaslinsky into his office.

"What did he do?" asked Kaslinsky, when Sara showed him the photo of the hispanic man, getting into the van.

"Do you know him?"

"Of course," Kaslinsky replied, then frowned, thinking if he should speak to them at all. "Well..." he stuttered, clearly uncertain what to do.

"Who is it? And don´t try to cover for him - or you´ll get charged with accomplice in the attack on an officer. Well?" Brass raised his eyebrows, dearing the man to lying.

"I didn´t do anything!" Kaslinsky replied, offended by the false accusation. "You can ask anyone here - I won´t hurt a fly! What the hell did the man get himself into!"

"The name," Brass hissed and Kaslinsky paused his tirade, as if just now realizing those people meant trouble.

"Okay, okay. No rush there. That´s Pete Gonzales. He worked for me more than a year now."

"Worked?" Sara asked, curious.

"Yeah well, whatever he did this time, I won´t tolerate it anymore. I don´t need to have cops breathing at my neck because of that scum."

"Where is he now?" Grissom spoke for the first time. Until then he was looking out of the office, at the service bay. There were several cars with open hoods and two man in yellow overals were quietly conversating, while changing pneumatics. Grissom saw as the third man pulled himself out from under a red Camaro, and wiped his hands against his overall, leaving dark, oily stains.

"I don´t know," Kaslinsky replied to the question. Before Brass had a chance to open his mouth, he added: "He was here just an hour ago, but his shift ended."

"When will he return?"

"He took a day off, so probably the day after tomorrow."

"So he was working yesterday?"

"Yeah, from eight at night to six in the morning."

"It is normal for him to work the night shifts?"

"Yeah, he does it quite often. I pay better at night shifts, but you should know that, huh?" Kaslinsky grinned, but his smile faltered as no one returned it. He coughed and nervously looked out of the window, watching as two cops started talking with his mechanics. They showed them the photo and Grissom saw them nod. He looked back at Kaslinsky.

"Was he there yesterday between two and three in the morning?"

Kaslinsky blinked, then brushed a stray hair from his face.

"I think he was, but I need to look into the logs."

"Before you do so, can you give us his adress?"

Kaslinsky nodded and walked up to the registry, searching through the files. He pulled out the file with the name of Peter Miguel Gonzales, then listed in it.

"There it is," he said the adress and pulled out another book, looking at the logs.

"What was the time you said?"

"Between two and three a.m." Sara repeated.

"Uhm, yeah. He was there all right. He worked on that blue Ford Taurus, there."

"Were you there?"

"Yes. Look, I don´t know what Pete did, but I can tell you he was here at the time you said. Sure, a hour later someone called him and he had to go, but-"

"Who called him?" Grissom asked.

"I don´t know. I´m not his mother. He just told me some friend is in trouble and that he needs to take the car. He returned it all right two hours later, so I didn´t ask him for details."

"He took your van. You often loan your car to your employees?"

"If they ask, yes. I don´t see anything wrong about it. Pete loaned the car several times before and there was no problem with that. What the hell did he do, anyway?"

"He attacked one of my people, and he´s also a suspect in a case of murder," Grissom said harshly. Mitch Kaslinsky gulped and took a step back.

"I´m sorry. But I have nothing to do with it. Why don´t you go and talk with Pete? I´m sure you´re wrong. The guy is a little impertinent, and he has his own troubles, but he won´t kill anyone, that I know."

"You better be right," Brass muttered. "Don´t leave the city, and definitely don´t warn Gonzales. Or you´ll get a pretty vacation in the state prison."

As the trio left the office, Kaslinsky shook his head and wearily sat down. He just wasn´t lucky in choosing his personnel.

xxxx

Nick Stokes wasn´t a happy camper. He thought at least in hospital he could get some rest, but no - the nurses woke him every two hours and asked silly questions. He had just enough of it - what he wanted was his own bed, drawn shades and quiet. Not the constant mill of people.

At least, after the morning exam the doctor gave him thumbs up. That meant strict orders, recommendation of not staying alone which Nick waved off, stating he´ll crash at his friends. The doctor frowned, doubting his words, but nevermind filled the discharge papers. He slowly dressed, thankful that Warrick stopped at his house earlier and brought some clothes with him, because Grissom took his as an evidence. Nick grimaced at the thought. Even though he felt better then the day before, he was still upset by what attack replayed itself in his dreams, so the nurses weren´t the only ones waking him up. Worst thing though was that Grissom was a part of his nightmare too. Nick shook off the depressive images, and concentrated on the simple act of walking straight. His side still hurt like hell and he supressed the urge to bend a little. Nick paused by the reception, ready to ask for change into the automat, so he could call a cab, when he spotted the dark head of his friend.

"Hey, man! Hope you wasn´t waiting too long?" Warrick asked with a smile.

"Waiting for you my whole life, man." Nick replied with a weary grin. Warrick grabbed him by the arm and led the way out of the hospital.

"How the hell did you know I´m getting out?" Nick asked, surprised by his friends presence, but also slightly annoyed. Under any other circumstance, Nick would take it like something nice, like a proof that they care. But now it was just another sign that they were thinking he needed help.

"I called in and the doc said he´s releasing you. I thought you´ll need a ride..." Warrick looked at Nick and saw the tight set of jaws. "Hope you don´t mind."

"Nah, it´s cool."

But Nick´s voice was all but cool and Warrick got a feeling something troubles his friend more than just a headache. The silence in the car was an evidence to this and Warrick watched his friend closely. Nick leaned against the side door, looking out of the window. After a while though he straightened up a bit, the passing view making him slightly nauseous. Warrick rather slowed down, not wanting to clean his car if not necessary.

"What´s going on in the lab?" Nick asked, knowing that keeping silent would only alert his friend that something´s amiss.

"You know, the usual. Sara kissed Hodges and Sanders got that girl from the lab he´s drooling over for the last two months." Warrick said, his tone all but serious. He waited for a grin to appear on Nick´s face, but the other CSI didn´t even listen to him. Warrick let out a sigh.

"Look Nick, I´m sorry for what happened-"

"Why? It wasn´t you messing up this time." Nick replied instantly and Warrick frowned at the tone.

"Yeah, I know. I am angry at him too..."

This time Nick looked at Warrick, surprised.

"What?"

Warrick blinked, assessing the tone of Nick´s voice with frown.

"Grissom, man. He shouldn´t have left you there all alone-"

"Just why the hell not!" Nick hissed and Warrick almost hit the back of another car - he looked at Nick, then back at the road. He slowed down, and found a place to park, turning off the engine.

"Okay, spill it. What´s the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I am fine. Why don´t you just ride?" Nick grumbled.

"I don´t want to get us killed. Come on, man. What´s going on in that thick head of yours?"

"I want to go home, ´Rick. I don´t feel up for a session with Mr. Favorite." His words stung and he knew that, but he really didn´t want to have this talk with Warrick, not here, not now. Maybe not ever.

Warrick clenched his teeth and was about to bit back some equally hurting words, when he realized that it wasn´t right. He thought about Nick´s behavior earlier in the hospital, and suddenly it made sense.

"You´re not mad at Grissom, huh?" Warrick asked, and watched as Nick looked away. "You´re angry at yourself. I just don´t get why. It could´ve been any one of us."

"But it was me," Nick said through clenched teeth. "And it´s always me, because I am always the stupid one. You know how many times it happened in the last year?" Nick showed three fingers in the air and shook his head, disgusted.

"Hendler, Crane and now this.. "I always stay behind and there´s always someone else to feel responsible. As if I couldn´t do my mistakes. Damn it, 'Rick, I am a grown man. Why the hell is everyone treating me like a stupid kid? I messed up the case, evidence was stolen. But it´s okay, because I always screw up. Why, I shouldn´t even wonder it took Grissom so long to let me investigate a case alone." Nick suddenly stopped, trying to catch his breath.

Warrick only watched him, surprised by the outburst. Nick shook his head and let out a deep sigh, wincing as his ribs protested.

"Everytime something happens, I-I never react how I should! And it´s really annoying, man." As if the speech robbed him of his energy, Nick wearily looked at Warrick, fearing to see disappointment or anger in his eyes. But there was only surprise and maybe a little understanding.

"Nick, what happened wasn´t your fault. Not now, not in the past. You hadn´t got a chance to defend yourself. And if you did - who´s to say you wouldn´t be dead right now?"

Nick gulped, unprepared for the question.

"Our job is hard as it is, Nick. We have to process scenes, see all the death. We´re here to deal with them, to try and find the culprit. Not to fight with them, but to bring them before the justice and prove them guilty with evidence. Not fists or guns. You´re a CSI - a good one. You help people with what you do - and you do it great. The rest is for the police."

Hearing those words meant a world to Nick. He felt partial relief that Warrick wasn´t blaming him, but he still needed to say something.

"I just don´t want to be the victim anymore."

There was no way to answer that and Warrick didn´t get the chance to try, because his phone rang. He shot Nick an apologetic look, which Nick repayed by a slight grin.

"Brown," Warrick said and listened for a moment, then turned at Nick.

"Yeah, Brass... I will be there, I just need to drive Nicky home." He finished the call and started the car.

"What´s up?"

Warrick hesitated.

"Come on, ´Rick. What´s going on?"

"We just caught the guy that attacked you. Brass and Grissom are about to start the interrogation."

Nick didn´t even think it through, when he said:

"I am coming with you."

"No way, man. You´re on medical leave and-"

"And I could probably identify him. Hey, I won´t meat with him - I just want to listen. No harm done."

"Then I´ll drive you straight home, okay? And I am staying there."

Nick was about to protest, but he thought better of it, and simply nodded.

Warrick sighed and turned the car back to the lab.

xxxXXXxxx

"Nick? What are you doing here?" Grissom asked, surprised to see the recuperating CSI walking towards him along with his escort.

"Thought I could identify the man. How did you get him?"

"We had Brenda Lacke under surveillance. Jim got a call that a man matching the photo taken from the footage was seen heading for her apartment building. They found them in heated conversation in her apartment."

"Have you already talked with them?" Warrick asked, not quite looking into Grissom´s eyes. He knew Gil wasn´t glad that he brought Nick along, but hell, he didn´t saw Nick´s face, leaving that hospital. Warrick thought a short time at the lab would hurt less then if he just left Nick at his home alone.

"No, Jim thought better to leave Gonzales waiting a while. But Sara is waiting just for you to talk with Brenda. I´ll handle Gonzales with Jim. Do you think it was wise to bring Nick here?" Grissom frowned, when Nick walked further into the rest room, getting a mug of coffee. Warrick shrugged, maybe a little annoyed at Grissom for the question, but still contemplating the answer.

"He wanted to come. I couldn´t say no, not with all that happened. And he´s right - he can identify the man."

"We don´t need Nick to make an identification," Grissom said in low voice. "We have enough evidence. And I doubt Nick was in any shape to see who attacked him." Warrick wanted to reply to that, but Nick was back, casting a questioning look at the pair. He felt they were talking about him and also felt the anger swelling up, but he pushed it back, deciding to play nice. Nick didn´t understood his own emotions and he knew he needed some time on his own to clear them up. Barking at his friend and chief won´t help him any.

"Talking about me, guys?" he didn´t resist.

"I think you should go home, Nicky. We got him, that´s all that matters."

Even as Grissom said that, he knew it wasn´t the right thing to say. Nick´s jaw clenched. He knew well enough not to shake his head when having concussion, but his face said it all.

"I want to see him. I need to know if he´d done it and why. That´s all." Nick´s voice was quiet and steady, though both Grissom and Warrick knew he couldn´t be calm inside.

Grissom´s eyes bore deep into Nick´s, searching and assessing. After a moment he simply nodded.

"Okay. But you stay out. And I don´t want to see you there before the doctor says so." Grissom turned and walked for the interrogation room, meeting with Brass on the way and leaving the surprised CSI´s far behind.

"Well, that was easier than I thought," Warrick frowned, and headed for the other room, looking for Sara and their other suspect. Nick stood there for a moment, unable to decide if he felt satisifed or not with the outcome. He didn´t know and walking after Grissom he realised it didn´t even matter. The only thing he was sure of was that he had a nasty headache, one that wasn´t brought up with a too long night or a wild drinking party. He could thank only the person sitting in the room, behind the two-sided mirror.

xxxx

Peter Gonzales wasn´t really surprised by the outcome of the situation. He knew it was stupid to visit Brenda at her home, but he couldn´t help it. He needed to tell her everything and that just couldn´t be done through the phone. He was still full of adrenaline when the cops kicked out the doors and when they pushed him against the dusty carpet, handcuffing his arms behind his back as if he was some criminal. And maybe he was, Pete thought to himself with a smirk, as that detective left him sitting in this room, his only company a plastic cup with the worst coffee he ever had and a probably deaf and mute sergeant standing by the door like one of these British Guards who could stood several hours without even moving a muscle.

When the door opened and two men walked in, Gonzales straightened up and showed them the most genuine smile he was able to. While the detective looked ready to kick his ass anytime he as much as breathed out, the other man frowned at him.

"Well, Pete. This is Mr. Grissom, from Forensics. We are investigating the murder of Paul Mason and the attack on one of our people. I believe you know something about it."

Gonzales cleared his throat, shooting a look at the two way mirror. He knew there´s someone watching them, but he didn´t care.

"I don´t know what you´re talking about," he started. He knew it well enough, but wasn´t sure how much does the cops knew. Maybe he can get out of it, if he simply keeps shut. Or maybe not, Gonzales thought as he saw the look in the detective´s eyes.

"Don´t mess with me, Gonzales. We have you on a footage, leaving the Grand hotel just minutes after my guy was attacked. You sit the description he gave us. There is also more evidence. Like the oil stamps left on his shirt, left by your shoes. By the way, would you be so good and take off your shoes?"

"What?" Pete frowned, then shrugged. "Whatever, but hey, I hadn´t took them off pretty long. Don´t tell you wasn´t warned."

Grissom asked the sergeant by the doors to bring him an evidence bag. When he returned, Grissom took the shoes, wrinkling his nose at the stench of the sweated through socks. Gonzales grinned, when even the Detective grimaced.

"I warned you."

Grissom labeled the evidence and sit back.

"Okay, what about we start again," Brass sighed. "Had you know Paul Mason?"

"No, I never heard of him," Gonzales replied calmly.

"Where was you at Tuesday between 2 and 3 in the morning?"

"Why, in the work, of course. I work at LV Tailing and Repair. Ask my chief."

"We already asked. How long do you know Brenda Lacke?"

This time Gonzales really thought about it, trying to remember when they first met.

"Uh, I think it´s two years now. I was called to change the flat tire." Gonzales shrugged, as if thinking back to that particular night. "It started raining and we were wet. My shift was already finishing, so I asked her to get some coffee and breakfast. She accepted. Do you want more details?"

"When did you saw her the last time?"

"Well," Gonzales smirked and leaned into the chair. "If I remember correctly, we were almost in the middle of something when your boys interrupted us."

"Listen, you smart ass," Brass hissed, leaning closer to the man, "the man you attacked is my friend. I don´t get along with guys hurting my friends, so you will do better if you stop playing with me." Gonzales recoiled, his face pale at the detective´s words. He looked at the other criminalist then at the sergeant, searching for some support, but saw none. Gonzales gulped, then cleared his throat.

"Okay, okay. Just... cool down, man." He shook his head.

"Was you in the parking lot of the Grand hotel in Tuesday morning?" Grissom asked, his voice void of any emotions, though Brass knew him enough by now to realize Grissom was angry.

"Yes, I was there. But I didn´t-"

"What were you doing there?"

"A friend asked me to bring him there. That´s all."

"Who was that friend?"

Gonzales was silent.

"Come on, we know you was there. We also know you attacked that man. But there´s something else, Gonzales, isn´t? Do you know something about a missing knife? Or a bathrobe?" Brass pushed and Gonzales squirmed in his seat.

"I don´t know what you´re talking about," he tried to look brave, but couldn´t hide the tremble in his voice.

"What were you doing in the parking lot?" Brass repeated his question.

"I told you, I brought a friend."

"The name, Gonzales. I want to hear the name. Was it Brenda?"

"We know she was in the hotel, while you were leaving, we already talked with her. Why didn´t you wait for her? Or why did you left almost fifteen minutes later? What were you doing in that time? And don´t lie to us, Gonzales! Your girlfriend already told us that you was there." Brass didn´t know that, but he was sure Warrick and Sara would manage the girl and get her talking.

"Okay, I was there with Brenda! But she didn´t kill that guy! I swear she didn´t kill him!" Gonzales shouted and jumped from his seat, but was quickly pushed back by the glaring sergeant.

"What happened, Pete?" Grissom asked, for once believing the guy, because the evidence spoke clearly. Maybe sensing that, Gonzales turned to Grissom.

"I was working at the service station, when Brenda called me. She was panicking, babbling something about a dead guy. I didn´t know what happened, but I knew she was scared to death. I told her to get to Andy´s restaurant, that we will meet there. When she came, she was crying and it took me a while to get the story out of her. She told me about that dead guy in the hotel room, that she never saw the killer, but she heard his voice. She ran off in panic and didn´t knew what to do. She was afraid that man would find her and kill her off, because she was there."

"I don´t understand why, if she wasn´t guilty, did you return to the hotel, then attack Nick and stole the evidence?" Grissom asked with raised eyebrows.

"I never meant to hurt that guy, really. He was just in the way. I needed to take that knife. Brenda said she touched it. She was afraid you would think she killed him."

"But why did she return to the room?"

"We knew you´ll find out she was in the room, if just for the guy at the reception." Brass let out an exasperated sigh.

"How the hell did you even knew where to look for that knife?"

"Well, it was more of a luck. I thought the body´s still there, that nobody found it. I went up to get in the room, but the hall was full of cops. I saw them wheel the body out, then I heard you talking with that other guy about finishing up and taking the evidence down. I just waited and followed you. Look, I really didn´t meant to hurt that guy. He was just in the way." As Gonzales finished, they all heard a thump, as if someone hit the wall. Grissom and Brass looked at the mirror, then back at each other.

"Will you finish this up, Jim? I have some work to do." Grissom stood, taking the bagged shoes with him. Gonzales watched him retreat, then looked at the detective. Brass saw something in his eyes, but couldn´t quite pin point it and that made him nervous.

xxxx

Grissom just knew bringing Nick here wasn´t a good idea. He found the younger CSI in the surveillance room, his head resting on the wall next to the mirror, whole body tense, fingers curled up into fists.

"Nick?" Grissom spoke, concern apparent in his voice. Nick didn´t answer, he just stared at the man behind the glass, who didn´t even realize how much his words meant.

"I am always - just in the way." Nick hissed, his words no more than a whisper but Grissom heard them and cringed, as the other CSI hit the wall next the glass, then spun around and left the room without another word.

"Damn," was all that Grissom said before taking off after Nick.

He found him in the change room, sitting on the bench, his head leaning against the locker. Nick´s eyes were closed, one hand flexing, trying to get rid of the pain from the blow, the other one protecting his sore ribs. Grissom sighed heavily, then leaned against the wall, facing Nick.

"I know it´s hard to hear, Nick, but most of the victims were just in the way."

"That doesn´t help, Grissom," Nick replied wearily, all the fight gone for now. His whole body was hurting and not everything was caused by the physical blows. Nick hurt deep inside from all the previous wounds he gathered through the years. This one just brought them all back and he needed to take control and push them back, much deeper this time so they won´t be able to resurface, ever again. He was too weary to talk with Grissom, and had no intention to explain himself to him.

"I am sorry, Nick. I don´t know how to help you..."

Nick looked up at his chief and found the concern in his eyes, but also the guilt hidden behind them. Nick don´t wanted guilt. He wanted acceptance and some kind of understanding. He wasn´t even sure what he really wanted, but he didn´t find it there.

"I am too damned tired and hurting right now, Grissom. Just leave me alone, please."

Grissom stood for a moment, searching for answers but not finding them. He sighed, then turned and left. Nick watched him retreat, the pain in his heart deepening. He didn´t know why, Grissom just did what he asked him for. But somehow - somehow it hurt more than anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-reader: Sabrina

Warrick and Sara finished with the interrogation and Warrick headed for the other observation room, thinking Nick was still there. But the room was empty, and Brass had already stopped grilling Gonzales and was about ready to send him into custody.

Warrick walked through the lab, having a feeling that Nick was probably with Grissom. But when he found the big chief, sitting behind his desk and frowning, he knew something was wrong.

"What happened?"

Grissom looked up at him and Warrick inwardly sighed when he found the concern written all over his face.

"Where´s Nick?"

"Last time I saw him, he was in the locker room," Grissom spoke and stood, walking toward one of his specimens behind the glass.

"Gonzales confessed?"

"To the attack on Nick, yes. To murdering Paul Mason, no. And I doubt he did it."

"Nick didn´t take it well, huh?" Warrick realized as Grissom nodded.

"Afraid not. Something is eating at him, but I don´t know what."

"Did you at least talk with him?" Warrick asked, somehow annoyed. He knew only too well how awkward Grissom could be, dealing with the emotions of other people.

"I tried. He sent me away."

Warrick snorted, quite imagining just how the talk went. He was pissed at Grissom but more so at himself. He shouldn´t have brought Nick into work. With a frustrated sigh, he started looking for his friend.

After half hour of walking through the lab he pulled out his cell phone, berating himself for not thinking about it sooner and dialed Nick. He let the cell ring ten times, then put it back into his pocket, and decided to try and see if Nick wasn´t already home.

"Hey man, I thought you took a cab or something," Warrick said, glad to find Nick walking towards his car.

"Needed a little walk.

"Didn´t think you had energy for that."

Nick wearily smiled.

"I don´t think so either. How did it go?"

"Good. What about you?"

Nick indefinably shrugged and looked at the car.

"Are we going or should I really call that cab?"

"Just waiting for you, my Prince."

What would otherwise earn Warrick a smack on the back, now came with just a grimace. Maybe it was really just the result of being up and going, even though the doctor prescribed rest, but Warrick didn´t like the silence that was in the car, nor the short, unemotional replies Nick gave when asked something. Warrick was tempted to just stop the car and turn to Nick, ask what the hell was wrong, but he didn´t do it. Nick wasn´t in any shape to face him, and Warrick didn't want to fight with him tonight. It could very well result in leaving Nick alone at his house and Warrick, remembering the case with Nigel Crane, didn't want to risk that, even if the culprit was safely behind the bars. They still hadn't found the killer.

xxxx

Two weeks later, the situation wasn´t any better. The murder of Paul Mason wasn´t any closer to being solved and even though Nick´s injuries had all but healed, he didn´t feel any better. But his teammates didn´t know that, as upon his return to work, Nick started acting as if everything was back to normal. And it was, in a way. Nick worked hard to maintain his facade, so much that he started believing it - at work. But once at home, not surrounded by people and noises, not forced to think about one case or another, his mind turned back to the events of the past two weeks. Once the doctor cleared him, he got a case with Grissom. They never talked about the scene in the locker room, but Nick could see Grissom was watching him the whole night. But he didn´t say a word and focused on the case of a hit and run. At least that case was solved easily as a footage from the nearby bank showed them the whole accident.

The whole time Nick waited for Grissom to say something, to ask him how he was doing or something like that. But Grissom was silently observing, which made Nick even more nervous. He left the lab as soon as he could and headed straight home, feeling bone tired. But sleep didn´t bring him any relief, as the nightmares came. And it wasn´t just Gonzales kicking him. It was a parade of all the people that somehow hurt him, all the people he somehow disappointed or those who disappointed him. And every one of them was standing there, in the world of nothingness, only watching, observing. Then they all but turned with a sneer and walked away and the voice of Peter Gonzales echoed in Nick´s head, repeating the same words as a mantra.

"He was just in the way. Just in the way..."

The voice, however, was shortly replaced by another, a familiar one, and Nick was back in the observation room, this time watching as Nigel Crane mumbled his own mantra. And next to him was Grissom.

"Why me?" Nick asked. And Grissom replied:

"I don´t think it was about you, Nick." He continued speaking, telling something about Maslow´s Hierarchy of Needs. But even though Grissom´s mouth moved, Nick didn´t hear him talking.

It wasn´t about him. He was just in the way.

At that point Nick woke up, sweat running down his back, hands trembling. And the words were still ringing in his ears, making it hard to breath, to even think. Nothing but a cold shower could chase them away. Then Nick crashed on his couch, turning on the TV, and pulled up the blanket, still shivering from the cold water. He fell asleep with the TV still on and was woken only by the ringing of his cell. He had overslept.

xxxx

"Man, this the second time you came in late. You know third time´s a charm, but I don´t recommend trying it. Grissom might get pissed," Warrick spoke, even before Nick had a chance to put down his coat. Nick rolled his eyes, but didn´t smile. He knew only too well that oversleeping would sooner or later result in another "talk" or rather a lecture from Grissom, not to mention Catherine´s concern, or Sara´s jibing. Nick swore to himself he would get another alarm clock and put it into the living room.

"Grissom looking for me?" Nick asked carefully.

"Nah, I covered for you. Told him you got stuck in traffic."

Nick let out a sigh.

"Thanks, man. All I need is a lecture-"

"What lecture?" Both men looked up, startled.

"Speak of the devil," Nick mumbled and flushed at Grissom´s glare, realizing only too late that his chief was proficient in lip reading. But Grissom said nothing, instead he looked at the clipboard in his hand, then tossed it to Nick. The CSI reflexively caught it, a little surprised by the move.

"You´ve got a case, Nick. Warrick, you´re with him. Dead man in the garbage behind the theater. I would advice a shower upon your return." That was all he said, then left.

Warrick and Nick stared after him, then looked at each other.

"He got us." Warrick said.

"Oh yeah," Nick added with a sigh. "Think someone already removed the body?"

"Not a chance," Warrick shook his head. "We told them not to do so dozen of times."

"Maybe we got a rookie," Nick wondered, and Warrick slapped him on the back with a laugh.

"Dream on, bro´. You wanna toss?" Warrick pulled out a coin and this time Nick laughed too, shaking his head.

"Nah, I think I´ll just take the secondary scene. You know, my ribs still trouble me, and I shouldn´t overdo it-" that brought on another slap on the back and both men headed out of the lab.

xxxx

The scene was one they saw too many times. A dark alley behind the theater, lit only by several lamps. The big container that was their prime concern belonged to a Chinese restaurant next to the Theather. Two police cars were already on the scene, the cops securing the alley, closing it off with yellow tape. Warrick and Nick waved to the men standing around, looking bored. They knew them all from earlier encounters, in fact Nick used to hang out with several of them when he wanted to get his mind off work.

"Hey, Charlie. What happened here?" Warrick asked as one of the cops approached them. He shook hands with the fleshy man.

"Warrick. Nick, How´s that thick head of yours?" Charlie asked, looking at the CSI. Nick blinked, trying to not let the irritation show on his face or worse, in his voice.

"It´s better than yours, Charlie. So, what did you find?"

The cop shrugged and turned to the container, glad he wasn´t the one that would lift out the body.

"Some homeless guy was looking inside the container, trying to find some food. He found a body instead. Started screaming, an employee from the restaurant came out to see what was going on. The guy pushed him to the container and showed him the body. And voila, we´re here."

"Have you got any identification?"

"Nah, didn´t want to disturb the scene," Charlie smirked and Warrick rolled his eyes.

"Who´s in charge, anyway?" Nick asked, looking around but unable to locate the detective.

"Here's the chief," Charlie said just as Brass showed up, bending to get under the tape and taking in the scene. He didn´t look happy either.

"Another one oversleeping?" Warrick jibed. Brass shot him a warning look, then nodded at Nick.

"The stupid moron almost ruined my car. I had to call another patrol to take the guy into the drunk tank. I swear he smelled like a wine pub. Idiot, sitting behind the wheel like that."

"Nobody got hurt?" Nick asked in concern. Jim shook his head, letting some of the anger out.

"No, but I probably burned my breaks. You know God protects kids and drunks? Well, I've almost started believing that."

"Bad night, huh?"

"And it only started. What about you? Do you know who this guy is? Or what killed him?"

"I was just going to look," Warrick said with a sigh and slowly made his way to the container, pulling out a pair of gloves from his pocket. Nick followed him. He wasn´t keen to get into the container, but if Warrick needed some help, he would do it without hesitation. After all, they had scenes more gross than this and he didn´t have a problem with that.

"Okay, we'll take a look."

It was one of those open containers without a lid, so it made it easier to get in, but Warrick took extra care not to ruin possible fingerprints on the rim. Nick helped him in and listened as his friend huffed, crinkling his face at the smell of rotting remains of food and such. He heard Warrick using the camera, then cleaning off the body so he could examine it.

"Shit!" Nick jumped at the sudden curse and looked at Warrick, who rose.

"What is it?"

The CSI shook his head in shock and disgust. But there was also something else and Nick felt the shiver run down his spine, as their eyes connected.

"Get out. I want to take a look."

"I don´t think that´s a good idea, bro´," Warick drawled, but got out, knowing only too well that he couldn't hide this from him.

Nick silently asked him for help getting inside the container, his ribs were still sore after all, though once there, he didn´t utter a sound. He just stared at the face screwed up in a mask of pain that even death couldn´t erase, eyes wide and already clouded. He felt the bile rise and practically jumped out of the container, rushing off the scene, toward his car. Once there he fell on his knees and retched, unable to push the face from his mind. It wasn´t so long ago he wished the man dead. The same man that opened all the old scars and let them bleed again, without even knowing it. He heard his voice, saw the same face in the interrogation room and couldn´t help but repeat his own words.

"He was just in the way. Oh God, he was just in the way."

And Nick knew that he wouldn't be able to push it all back, because everything just started.

xxxXXXxxx

"I am fine," Nick bit back for the third time in the last two minutes. He was standing by his black Chevy, frowning at Brass. "I just eat something bad, that´s all. I am quite capable of working on this case!"

"I don´t doubt that, Nicky. But you know well enough that you´re too close." Brass raised his hand and shook his head, stopping another of Nick´s protest. "No, hear me out. Just remember what happened after Kristi died. It can happen again."

"What the-" Nick sweared, looking ready to bolt at the mention of Kristi. He remembered only too well what a hell it was when Eckley practically accused him of Kristi´s murder. How humiliated Nick felt when they took samples of his DNA, and how close he got to losing his job, as well as his freedom. No, he definitely didn´t want a repeat of that.

Brass touched his arm, bringing him back to the sour reality. Nick, hardly containing his frustration, shrugged it off.

"You implying I killed him? Yes, I was angry. I hated him for what he did to me, for what he said. But I would never do this!" Nick practically shouted, his whole body trembling. Several cops turned to look at him, even Warrick stopped talking into his cell and shot him a concerned look. Nick didn´t care. He just looked at Brass, hands turned into fists.

"That guy died sometimes between ten in the morning and six or seven p.m. Someone slashed his throat. I was at home, in my bed, sleeping or trying to. And no, I don´t have an alibi. Now, if you want to arrest me, go on. Otherwise, you´ll find me in the lab. If I still have a job there."

With that Nick turned, get into his car, slammed the door and started the engine. He took several deep breaths, then stepped on the gas and drove off.

Brass stood on the place, still shocked by the outburst. It took him several seconds to take in the stillness around him and he turned. Most of the cops stared at him and at the retreating car. Warrick had a frown of his own, the cell turned off.

"What!" Brass barked. "Don´t you have work to do?"

That was all it took and the cops looked away, getting back to work. They didn´t talk about what happened, it was too dangerous in the presence of detective Brass. No one wanted to get kicked in the ass, and they all knew Brass was capable of doing it, if anyone should harm his team.

"Catherine´s on her way," Warrick spoke to Brass. "Man, it really got to him."

"Yeah. But someone had to tell him that. Better me than Eckley."

Warrick frowned.

"You think he´ll really dare to do that?"

Brass only shrugged.

"Knowing Eckley, he´s already rubbing his hands."

"Yeah, and knowing Nick, he´ll just show it back into his face," Warrick sighed. "I just hope it won´t cost his job."

"Me too," Brass said, feeling disgusted by the whole event. "Come on, better get it done before it starts raining." Warrick looked up, seeing the white clouds on the night sky.

xxxx

Catherine Willows grimaced at the stench coming from her colleague. She was standing only a few steps from Warrick and although the younger man didn´t realize it, he had already acquired the typical smell of a homeless guy and although he didn´t look like one, and didn´t emanate the alcoholic odour, she took a step back.

"What?" Warrick frowned.

"Nothing. You just... smell."

"I don´t!" Warrick retorted swiftly, but then he sniffed and grimaced. "Man, could this get even worse?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. You see, the body is already on its way to the coroner. Now we need to look for the murder weapon, as well as for anything else. Because youalready "acquired" that lovely stench, I suggest you take the search of the container, while I´ll do the rest."

"Why?" Warrick protested, though it sounded more like a whine.

"Because you can´t interview anyone like that," Catherine paused, then with a smile added: "and because I am in charge now, so start working."

Warrick shot her a disgusted look and retreated to the container. Catherine clicked her tongue, then walked toward Brass, who was already speaking with the employee from the Chinese restaurant, who called the police.

"How long ago was that?" Brass asked and Catherine listened, trying to pick up on the conversation or where it was heading.

A young, skinny asiat shrugged, looking lost. He was shivering and had a twitch in his left eye. He was shorter than Brass and he had to look up every time someone spoke at him.

"It was lunch time. I remember him because he tripped over one of the chairs and started cursing really loud. Mr. Chang sent me to calm the man down, but he stopped before I even get to him."

"Are you sure it was Gonzales? That guy in the container?"

The young man nodded, throwing a curious look at Catherine. Brass noticed her too.

"This is Catherine Willows from the criminalists." The man politely nodded, then turned back to Brass.

"Am I in trouble, detective?"

"No, not at all. We just need to know what you saw. Catherine - this is Charlie Wanado." Brass frowned into his notes. "He says he saw Gonzales earlier today in the restaurant."

"Was he with anyone else?" Catherine asked.

"I am not really sure, Madam. I know he had brothand Kung Pao. He gave a small tip and left. I think he was waiting for someone."

"Did he talk with anyone?"

Wanado though about it and shook his head.

"I am sorry. He finished eating, then stood and walked towards the exit. That´s when he tripped. He started cursing, but he stopped, when some man spoke to him. They shared a look, the guy looked surprised, but he nodded and walked out. I didn´t see him after that."

"What about the other man? What was he doing?"

Wanado shrugged.

"After a moment he left, too."

"Just like that? How long was the man in the restaurant?"

"I don´t know, detective," Wanado replied a little exaspirated. He had enough of this interrogation, but was too afraid to say so. "Probably just a moment, because his table was empty. I thought he didn´t like all the shouting and left to find a quietter place to eat."

Brass and Catherine looked at each other with raised eyebrows. This stranger was making them more curious by the moment.

"Can you describe him?"

Wanado let out a tired sigh.

"Can´t it wait? Or try to ask some of the other waiters?"

"I am sorry, but we need to do it now. Just reply to this question and we will leave you to go back to the restaurant."

Wanado uncertainly looked at Brass, trying to determine if he really means it and deciding that he probably doesn´t have any other chance.

"He was tall. White, with light hair. He had a beard, or a mustache... I´m not sure."

"Can you tell me his age?"

"Between thirty and forty, I think." Wanado shrugged.

"Anything unusual about him?"

Wanado shot them a weird look as if asking just how much more did they want.

"No, I don´t think so," he said finally.

"Thanks, that will be all. You helped us a lot." Wanado nodded and left before the detective could cameup with another question.

"Well, what do you think?" Brass asked Catherine.

"Perhaps we should talk with the rest of the waiters in that restaurant, see if they won´t remember something else. This somehow related to that attack on Nicky?"

"I don´t know if it has something to do with Nick, but it sure as hell is related to the murder of Paul Mason. I don´t see how this could be a coincidence. Both were killed with a knife, in the span of two weeks. Both knew Brenda Lacke."

"But why was Gonzales there? I mean, I thought he´s still in custody. He attacked Nick, after all."

"Yeah well, apparently someone paid the bail. I will look into it, as soon as I find Brenda Lacke."

"So she isn´t in custody either?" Catherine asked, surprised. Brass rolled his eyes, disgusted.

"Lawyers," he almost spit out. "I already sent a patrol to her apartment and another one to check the 24/7 she´s working at. Though she wasn´t on any of the places. I´ll go and look at it right after we finish this."

"Maybe you should do it first, Jim. I had a feeling that girl can be deep in problems."

"She´s not the only one. I hope Nicky won´t do anything stupid," Brass voiced his thoughts, concern written all over his face.

xxxx

Sara was leaning over the scope, studying the red fibers probably belonging to the killer of a sixteen year old girl who was found in the ditch, beaten and strangulated. At least she wasn´t raped, Sara thought as she adjusted the scope so she could see better the tiny crystals of sand stranded in the wool. He killed her in an outburst of anger when she tried to run away and probably got scared so he didn´t even finish his work,only kicked the girl out of his car and drove off.. They already had the type of car thanks to the tire marks on the road. Now, to only find out what kind of sand it was...

Sara looked up as she heard the door close a little more loud than she would´ve liked. She was surprised to see Nick standing not far from her, looking lost and confused, but also angry. Sara wondered what could´ve happened to make Nick, of all people, angry.

"You finished early," Sara commented and cringed at the look Nick gave her. Well, at least she knew it had something to do with his job. Or Warrick.

"What´s got through your way, Nick? You aren´t slammingdoors very often," she jibbed, hoping for some reaction.

"Yeah well, you shouldn´t get used to it, Sidle. I will probably get the hell out of here soon enough." Nick bit back and wondered just why the hell did he come to the lab, or why was he standing there like an idiot and letting Sara grill him. When he drove off the scene, he thought about going home, to hell with work, but he knew it won't do much good. He was running too long and it was time he faced his fears, whatever they were. Because Nick didn´t know what he was running from before. But the lab looked like a pretty safe place and he hoped to find some case he could get engrossed with, to stop thinking about Gonzales, about Mason and about everything that happened for the last two weeks. But once there, he somehow lost the energy, leaving him only with the taste of anger and confusion.

"What happened?" Sara asked, her voice no more biting.

"Gonzales is dead," Nick spoke and sighed, letting go of some of the frustration that was eating at him from the moment he woke up.

Sara blinked.

"So?" She didn´t understood why it affected Nick so much. The man attacked him after all. If it was her, she would just wave it off, maybe somewhere deep inside think he deserved it.

"So!" Nick repeated with surprise. "That´s all you have to say?"

"And what should I say? I amsorry? Or that it´s a great lost? Come on, Nick. Even you can´t be so forgiving! He could´ve killed you." Sara almost waved her arm in frustration. Nick blinked in surprise at the exclamation, then shook his head.

"Great. Tell that to Eckley and I have him breathing down my neck. Do you realize I don´t have an alibi, but I have a motive? Hell, Brass already asked me where I was at the time! With my luck, they´ll find that knife right before my doorstep!"

Noneof them saw the figure leaning in the door, watching them, until Nick stopped to take a breath and the man coughed, gaining their attention. Both CSI´s spun around in scare, and didn´t relax at the familiar face.

"Nick, my office. Now." Before the man in question could even open his mouth, Grissom was gone.

"Damn it!" Nick cursed and looked at Sara.

"Good luck," Sara said, watching as Nick followed with slumped shoulders. She don´t wanted to be in his position now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-reader: Sabrina

When Nick walked into the room, Grissom was sitting behind the table, cleaning his glasses. He didn´t look up to acknowledge Nick´s presence, and Nick didn´t speak. He just stood by the doors, leaving them slightly open, as if he feared he would need a quick exit. Grissom looked up at him then, and Nick flinched at the scrutine, feeling both anger and fear emerging, mixing into a whole new feeling that made his insides crawl, threatening to lose the little soda he drank to push back the acid taste of bile. He moved his hands, crossing them on his chest, so now he looked even more guarded. Grissom blinked, then leaned back in his chair, glasses still in hands although they were as clean as they could get.

"Nick, I think we need to talk," Grissom said when the silence in the room grew so deep they could hear the bugs crawling inside their glass houses.

"About what?" Nick asked, then cleared his throat as he realized how raspy his voice sounded. Grissom noticed it, too. He stood and walked to the pitcher, pouring some water into the cup and handing it to Nick. The CSI took the cup, eyeing it for a moment, until Grissom thought there could be a fly, but with a resigned shrug Nick drank it, relishing the cold liquid, stalling for time. Even the simple gesture held significance to Nick. It wasn´t taken as a sign of friendship, but as a sign of his own weakness. Everyone thought of him as someone needing help and all he wanted was to shout out that he doesn´t need it. But how could he do so, if a simple look at the dead body of Peter Gonzales brought him to his knees, retching like some rookie.

Grissom watched as the emotions swirled on Nick´s face and was in the dark about what could´ve brought up such a reaction. He almost decided to leave the whole conversation and just tell Nick he´s got to work on another case. But then he spotted something in those brown eyes that stopped him.

"We need to talk about Gonzales," he said and watched as Nick´s jaw clenched, his hands turning into fists and crushing the tiny plastic cup. For a second he though Nick would lash out - a totally unthinkable action - but the CSI took a deep sigh and the frown changed into a fake smile. One that didn´t appease Grissom any.

"What about him?" Nick asked, his voice as close to normal as ever. Grissom shot a look at the crushed remains of the cup and Nick followed his eyes, flushing a little at the proof of his emotions. "Sorry," he smiled again and threw the cup into the bin.

Grissom took a breath and Nick prepared for a lecture, but it didn´t come.

"Nick, I am sorry for what happened." It was so unexpected that for a moment Nick let his guard down, opening his mouth then clasping it shut in confusion.

"What?" he stuttered.

"I shouldn´t have left you alone in that parking lot." That was all Grissom said. But it was enough to push back Nick´s confusion and rewoke the anger boiling just beneath the surface.

"Why?" again that simple question. Grissom opened his mouth to say something, but Nick stopped him. "Look, I don´t need everyone feeling guilty about something only I messed up. Hell, that´s the last thing I need!" Nick burst out. "I know I screwed up, but I would really like to be the one responsible for it. I am fed up with all the excuses."

Grissom blinked, trying to understood what Nick said and put it into context with all his previous actions. And it started to make sense. Letting out a sigh, Grissom nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Nick numbly repeated the word.

"Yes. You want to take responsibility, you have it. You´ve got Paul Mason."

"B-but... we have nothing on that case," Nick stuttered.

"There´s always something, Nick. You just need to find it. If you need some help, ask Sara."

"What about Gonzales?" Nick already recovered from the shock, though his voice shook a little at the name.

"Warrick and Catherine will take care about that."

"I didn´t-" kill him, Nick wanted to say, but Grissom stopped him.

"I know. And I believe that after the fiasco with Kristi, Eckley won´t be so keen on framing you, either. But we still need to be careful about that so I want your full co-operation."

Nick nodded, still feeling numb from the change in Grissom. Five minutes ago he waited to be lectured and pulled off the case, maybe even said to take a few days off until it calms down. But Grissom did none of that, instead offered him a case. One Nick knew he couldn´t let go. Somehow, that simple act of trust did much more for Nick than all the apologies in the world.

"I just want to do something right," Nick spoke out loud enough for Grissom to hear him, though it sounded more like he said it to himself. "On my own." he added.

Grissom looked at him, cocking his head slightly.

"You´ve got the chance, Nicky. But don´t forget that you´re still a member of the team."

Both men stood in silence, studying each other. When Nick nodded, Grissom felt the concern diminish a little. He knew Nick wasn´t all right, that he still needed time and some help, but at least it was a start. Nick, on his side, felt confusion mixing with relief. Maybe he still had a chance.

xxxx

Nick was still reeling from his talk with Grissom when he entered the lab. He didn´t know what to think about it. When he entered Grissom´s office, he awaited a lecture, maybe an offer to take a few days off. But he never thought Grissom would give him a case. Not after what happened today, not after what happened two weeks ago. In Nick´s opinion, he lost all credit he could´ve had with Grissom, but he never realised he was only projecting his own doubts into the man. The fact that Grissom still trusted him enough to give him the case just came as a shock.

Now he didn´t know if he should laugh or cry. He felt relief, but also fear that he couldfail and definitely show Grissom that he isn´t cut out for the job of a CSI. Also there was the anger, silently bubbling under the surface. He wasn´t sure what he was angry for anymore, he just was. But for now, he felt also hopeful that maybe he got the chance he wanted.

Sara looked up from the computer, warily eyeing Nick. Seeing that he was in one piece still, and not about to storm through the lab, she smiled.

"Lucky, huh? Grissom got called away before he had a word with you?"

Nick showed her a lopsided grin, one she didn´t saw for quite a time now.

"How´s your case coming?"

"Okay, I guess," Sara replied, watching Nick curiously. He still wasn´t back to his normal self, she saw the flicker of fear behind those brown eyes, but he was definitely better. She wondered if he really talked with Grissom, but then she realised that however down, Nick wouldn´t disrespect their chief with sneaking off.

"You closing it up soon?" Nick asked and nodded to the computer and the file on the monitor.

Sara shrugged.

"I'm waiting for the report from Sanders. If he confirms the sand found in the car matches the one I collected from our suspect´s boots, I will close it up in a moment."

"Well, while you´re waiting..."

"I hear a request coming," Sara sighed. "What´s up, Nick? Grissom gave you some crazy assignment?"

"In a way, yeah. I´ve got to look at the case of Paul Mason. Well, as you was working on it, I thought that maybe-" Nick stopped, frowning as he saw the grimace on Sara´s face. "What?" he asked, irritated.

"Nothing," Sara held up her hands, trying to hide her surprise. She didn´t know what Grissom thought, but she didn´t like it a bit. Not only she was irritated by the fact Grissom practically handed Nick her case, showing that he trusted him more than Sara and Warrick, but she thought Nick should be the last one to investigate it.

"You think I shouldn´t?" Nick asked, suddenly unsure. That change of mood alerted Sara and she suddenly realised just what was Grissom´s plan. She didn´t like it, but there wasn´t much she could do about it, only think that she´ll give Grissom a piece of her mind.

"No, I didn´t say that. Just surprised, that´s all. Didn´t mean anything, really." She assured him quickly. Still there was doubt in his eyes.

"I just thought he would tell me before he hands my case off to someone else. No offense." She was trying to look annoyed and it worked, because Nick visibly relaxed.

"Sorry for that. But Gris didn´t really pull you off the case. He said if I need help, I should ask you."

"Great. Now I have even more work," Sara gruffed, but was glad she wasn´t totally off the case. This way she could keep a closer eye on Nick, and maybe figure out just what the hell is troubling him.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"How about we start with the victim. Who was Paul Mason?"

xxxx

"You did what?" Catherine almost shouted and Grissom pulled off the phone, grimacing. He could imagine several people looking at Catherine in surprise, and he heard her mutter a sorry to someone near her.

"I just gave Nick what he wanted. A case."

"Are you insane, Gil? You should´ve sent him home! He isn´t ready to work on any case right now - and you give him the one that started it all?" Catherine couldn´t hide the anger mixed with concern.

"Nick is perfectly capable of handling a case." Grissom said, although Catherine could tell he had his doubts. "Anyway, we getnowhere with Paul Mason, but maybe Nick will be able to see something we didn´t."

"May I remind you that Nick was involved?"

"No, he wasn´t. Not really. He was attacked by Gonzales and we already know that. He never saw the case files, nor did we talk about it with him. He can get a new point of view on it."

"Just great. And why do you think this new point of view will help him any?"

"He lost control. He wants to regain it. I gave him the chance." Grissom said in a voice that plainly stated it´s the end of the discussion. He heard a sigh coming from the other end and pushed back a grimace.

"Whatever," Catherine said resignedly, "just don´t let him out of your sight."

Grissom frowned at that. He trusted Nick because he was his CSI, a member of Grissom´s team, or like Brass would say - one of his kids. But Grissom still thought it was partially his fault Nick got attacked and thus he felt he owed him something.

"I´ll watch him." Grissom spoke into the phone, startling Catherine who was starting to think they lost connection.

"Good."

"Do you have anything new on the Gonzales case?" Grissom asked once again matter of factly and Catherine knew the debate about Nick was finished.

"Brass got a description of the guy that was seen with Gonzales in the restaurant. He´s now questioning the personnel (personnell), see if someone didn´t remember more. Warrick is still searching that container, looking for the murder weapon."

"Was there any blood in the container?"

"Only on the body. But I found a pretty big sized pool of blood not so far from the container."

"That´ll be the primary scene."

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. "I'm already working on that."

"Then why are you still on the phone?" Grissom gibed.

"Because you called me," Catherine replied exasperated, but Grissom had already ended the call.

xxxXXXxxx

The night shift was coming to the end when the team reinforced at the conference room. Grissom called them there, feeling the need to discuss their cases. It was easier to do so together, then just waiting for everyone to leave some report. And it also gave them all a chance to get some food.

Sitting around the table, eating the slices of pizza and drinking soda, the five of them were getting through their reports. Grissom was in the head of the table, watching his team, surveiling each one of them. Warrick was munching over his slice and showing them all the photos of the dead body, which both Sara and Catherine commented with disgusted looks, muttering something about food. Warrick grinned with satisfaction and put the photos back to the file. While he was speaking about some fingerprints found on the container, Nick put his pizza back on the plate and frowned at the file he was reading. He wasn´t paying much attention to the discussion, knowing well enough by now that the important things will be spoken of after the food.

"Nick?" Grissom noticed the frown and was curious as to what brought it on. Although he was paying attention to Warrick, he mostly concentrated on the younger CSI sitting right next to him.

"Huh?" Nick looked up, distracted from his thoughts.

"Something wrong?" Grissom asked, trying to sound casual and not alert the others. He didn´t had much success, as all heads turned at Nick.

"Uh, nothing," Nick said, still confused and suddenly also a little annoyed at all the stares he received.

Grissom coughed and glared at the others. Sara had the grace to blush. Catherine didn´t budge, she still had her eyes on Nick, same as Warrick.

Thinking it was best to say something, Nick looked right at Grissom, although his question was directed at Warrick and Sara.

"I just wondered... did you find any computer at Brenda Lacke´s place? Or at Gonzales', for instance?"

"Computer?" Catherine repeated the question, not understanding.

Sara exchanged a look with Warrick, then shook her head.

"No, no computer, notebook or even a PDA at either place. Why do you ask?"

Nick shrugged.

"Only curious. I'm reading through Brenda´s statement. She said that she meet with Paul Mason in person for the first time the week he was killed, but that she knew him through the internet for quite a time now. So I´m just asking - how did she know him if she doesn´t have a computer?"

"You can get to the net on most places, Nick. Starting from the library, ending with a PC players club," Sara said, but it wasn´t the answer Nick wanted to hear and he shook his head.

"There is no evidence that Brenda was speaking the truth. Given the circumstances, I highly doubt it. If she´s right, we should see the e-mails they exchanged. I know that Mason probably deleted them as he was married, but Brenda wasn´t engaged. I think one of them would´ve kept the e-mails."

"You have a point Nick, but Sara´s right too. Brenda could´ve read her mails at the nearest internet cafe," Grissom spoke, trying not to discourage Nick, but the exact opposite. He was glad the CSI was once again concentrating on the case, rather than his own demons.

"That´s a possibility, yeah. But I would take a look at it. I just think it´s a little weird that two people from so different places and economical backgrounds met for the first time after writing with each other for something over a year. They were together for a week and bang - Paul Mason was dead. Gonzales stole the murder weapon, then when you caught him, he just couldn´t recall where he put it. Two weeks later someone paid the bail and twenty four hours later, Gonzales turns up dead. And Brenda Lacke vanished."

"Brass already put an APB on her," Warrick said and Nick was relieved to see that everyone was concentrating on the case rather than on him.

"I am curious if she´s more of a victim or the culprit," Nick spoke thinkfully.

"Both, I guess," Sara replied, thinking about the girl.

"It´s a shame they were both released. Did Brass found out who paid that bail for Gonzales?"

"His lawyer, of course. And he got the money from a "friend of Pete Gonzales", of course, it was an anonym," Warrick shook his head, annoyed by the system and people who used it to their advantage.

"Did anyone of you talk with Mason´s wife?" Nick spoke out of the blue.

"I did," Brass said, suddenly appearing in the door. All heads turned and he walked in with a tired sigh. "What do you want to know, Nicky?"

"I still don´t understand why Mason came to Vegas. He had a wife, two kids. He had a good job in California, but he still ended up in a hotel with a girl he knew only through the net. And someone killed him."

"Yeah well, his job get him enough money, but it wasn´t without trouble. It seems Paul Mason had some problems at work."

"What troubles can an insurance agent have?" Nick asked, his eyebrows arched.

"I didn´t get much details, the cops in California feel a little offended the guy was killed here and not at home," Brass said with sarcasm. "Anyway, Mason worked for a private insurance company. He wasn´t a regular agent - he was an insurance investigator. His specialization was property insurance. Seems like he asked for a transfer two days before he left for vacation."

Nick looked up at Brass who was now pouring himself a coffee.

"Can this be a motive?"

Brass shrugged.

"The folks there won´t talk to us much. We sent them what we´ve got and they agreed to take a look at the company."

"Do we got a list of employees?"

"Trying to get it," Brass said sourly, grimacing at the not so great liquid in his mug. "But they don´t want to cooperate. I have a feeling something´s amiss in that company - or that there´s some kind of internal investigation going on."

"Well, that gives us something. Jim, can you try and get that list?"

"I´ll do my best," Brass said and Grissom nodded.

"Now, do you have any news on the whereabouts of Brenda Lacke?"

"She just vanished. Took out five hundred dollars from the ATM near her job at three p.m. She had to know Gonzales is dead or that something happened to him. Her apartment looks normal, but there were some clothes thrown on the bed, as if she wastrying to pack really fast and forgot a few things. There was no bag or suitcase but I remember that two weeks ago she had a pretty Stratus suitcase in her bedroom. I would say she fled town."

"Whew, how could she knew Gonzales was dead?" Catherine asked surprised at the quick retreat.

"Well, either she was the one that killed him or she knew who did it," Grissom spoke and looked at Catherine, who started to shake her head.

"Cath?"

"I talked with Doc Robbins. Gonzales was killed sometime between one and four in the afternoon. He clearly fought his attacker, there were several defense wounds on his upper right arm as well as raw knuckles. But he wasn´t lucky. You know about the pool of blood I found several yards from the container? Seems that Gonzales fell and hit his head on the curb. Cracked skull, but he was still alive, although probably unconscious. The killer used the time and slashed his throat. He waited a moment, then picked up the body and threw it into the container."

"That had to leave some evidence," Nick wondered.

"I found some hair on Gonzales´ clothes. They were light, so I assume they´re not his own. Greg is running the DNA test as we speak." Catherine looked at Grissom, waiting for the next question, knowing there´ll be one.

"Were there prints on the body?"

"Yeah, I was just about to put them into the computer along with the ones I picked up from the container. We´ll see if there´s a match."

Grissom nodded. They had enough evidence to convict the killer, they just needed to identify and then catch him. Simple as it looked, that wasn´t the easiest part.

"Did Robbins said more about the killer? I mean - could it be Brenda?" Sara asked, still trying to decide if the girl was innocent or not.

"He was able to tell me the killer was right handed, but not much more. Gonzales was already laying when his throat was cut and the rest of the injuries didn´t indicate much. It could´ve been a woman but I doubt it. Looks more like a work of a man - the same one that killed Paul Mason." Catherine said and looked at a decidedly pale Nick, who suddenly stood. He let out a sheepish smile, realising that everyone was watching him, but he just felt a need to get out of the room. The talk about how was Gonzales killed brought back the images of his own attack and while he tried to ignore them, assuring himself that Gonzales wasn´t planning to kill him, he couldn´t really stop the shivers running through his body, nor the sickening feeling in his stomach. He was sure that pizza didn´t bode well with his nerves and the last thing he wanted was to start retching there, in front of his team.

"You guys... continue, I am just... I just gotta get back to the lab." Without waiting for an approval, he said a rushed "excuse me", then fled from the room.

It took five seconds for the others to realise that something was wrong with their friend and another two to bring Catherine and Warrick to their feets, heading for the door.

"Leave him," Grissom stopped them, earning a matching pair of glares.

"What? Did you see him? I bet he´s gonna throw up whatever little he eat," Catherine protested, her mother instincts kicking in.

"Yeah, man. Why the hell is he working on this case anyway?" Warrick asked, his anger flaring. He wasn´t glad to learn Nick assigned to the case of Paul Mason, and as they were coming to the conclusion it was one killer in both cases, he liked it even less. Seeing Nick getting pale all of a sudden just reminded him of the earlier incident at the scene.

"Because I think it´s the best thing for him," Grissom spoke, trying to stem his own irritation. Didn´t they see he was just trying to help Nick? Didn´t they know that worrying about Nick right now was the last thing the boy needed? Grissom already realised what troubled Nick the most and in a way, he understood him. And the only thing that could help Nick now was giving him the feeling he was trusted.

"If you´ll crowd him, he´ll feel smothered," Grissom tried to explain, though it was hard on him. "Give him space and time. That´s all he needs. And a little trust that he´s able to handle a case." He wanted to say more but stopped at the surprised looks of his team. It hurt him a little that they all thought he´san unemotional workoholic, or in better cases a man that just can´t convey his emotions, nor understand those of others. It hurt because that meant his team still didn´t know him that well. It wasn´t that Grissom couldn´t feel - he just didn´t like to broadcast his inner feelings as much as other people.

Catherine still stood in the middle of the room, not letting her eyes off of Grissom, until he cocked his eyebrows as if daring her to disagree. Catherine sighed and slowly walked back to her seat. It wasn´t so easy with Warrick, though. The man was on a guilt trail from the moment Nigel Crane sent Nick flying through the window not so long ago, and he wasn´t about to leave his friend alone now. He glared at Grissom.

"Give him space, that´s okay with me. But I don´t think we should leave him to just deal with this alone. Letting this be is the same as letting him think he doesn´t matter to us." Without another word, Warrick turned and walked out of the room, following in his friend´s steps.

Grissom watched the door close, then let out a sigh. He looked at Brass who gave him a half-grin, understanding well enough what the other man felt.

"Take a seat, Jim. We still have a killer to catch."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-reader: Sabrina

Warrick was still fuming over Grissom´s words when he reached the bathroom. Once there, though, he stopped, his hand laid on the doorknob. Even there, he could hear the sounds of retching and he didn´t need much imagination to know that Nick was sick. As much as he wanted to go in and help him, he realised the best thing to do was to wait. Rather, he stood there, guarding the door until he could hear the sound of running water. He walked in and saw Nick leaning over the sink, splashing water over his face and spitting, trying to get rid of the sour taste in his mouth. His right hand was groping for a towel, and he jumped, startled, when the towel was put into his hand.

"Gosh, give a man a warning," Nick said, accepting the towel and drying his face. He blinked out the water from his eyes and for once was relieved to find it was Warrick standing there, and not someone else.

"Sorry. Getting a stomach flu?"

"Nah, just didn´t take well to the pizza. I'm okay." Nick saw the dubious look on Warrick´s face and sighed. "Stop worrying, 'Rick."

"You don´t have to work on that case, Nicky." Warrick spoke out of the blue, his words startling Nick more than his earlier appearance.

"What?" he asked, voice tight as he tried to swallow, unsuccesfully.

"Mason. You don´t need to work on him," Warrick repeated, managing toraiseNick´s anger once again.

"But I do, Warrick. And I want to," Nick emphasized, trying to stay cool, though he was failing miserably. Warrick watched him and saw the clenched jaw. The fact that Nick was still clenching the towel was also a pretty good indication of the CSI´s mood and Warrick let out a sigh, his hands raised as if in surrender.

"Hey, I didn´t mean anything by that, Nick. Just thought-"

"I can think for myself, thank you very much," Nick bit back, still eyeing the other man threateningly. "Look Warrick, I don´t need anyone to tell me what to do and what not. I am a grown up, if you didn´t notice. Maybe I'm not the brightest CSI onthis team, but if I thought Iwasendangering the case, I would step back myself. Now, if you don´t have anything else to say, I need to go to the lab."

Nick was about to push around Warrick, but the taller man took a step to the side, effectively blocking his way.

"Warrick," the name came out as a growl, but Warrick didn´t flinch.

"What, Nicky?"

"Get out of my way." Nick hissed.

"Not until we straighten this out."

"I think I made myself clear enough."

"Yeah, and it´s my time now, so shut up and listen. Maybe Grissom thinks it´s a great idea to let you work this case, and hell, maybe he´s right. But I won´t stand by and watch you waste away because of some mistake you think you made. Gonzales had a gun and whatever he said in that interrogation room that made you tick, it doesn´t mean shit to me. You put up a fight, you end up with abullet. Anyone coming with a gun is ready to use it. Whatever is running through your thick head, I advice you stop it, before it gets you into trouble." Warrick paused, trying to discern if the words hit close to home. Nick was staring at him, his eyes wide and glittering. Warrick couldn´t tell if it was anger in them or something else. He reached up and grasped Nick´s head, to make sure that he would listen to him.

"If I hover, it doesn´t mean I think you´re weak or incapable. It just means that you´re my friend and I am worried. Besides, everyone needs help from time to time. You better learn to accept it."

"You finished?" Nick asked, his voice hushed.

"Yeah, I am," Warrick sighed, slightly disappointed that his speech didn´t have the effect he wanted.

"Good. So we should get the hell out of here, before someone stumbles in and sees us like this. I would be mighty pissed to hear the secretary gosipping about our wedding day." Nick smirked as Warrick blinked, taking in his words. The smirk changed into a smile when Warrick laughed and slapped him on his face, nodding.

"You´re right, bro'. I wouldn´t like it either." Warrick took the totally crumpled towel from Nick and threw it to the sink, then headed for the door. His hand was on the doorknob, but he turned around to look at Nick.

"We are okay, Nick?" he asked, wanting to make sure his words weren´t taken in the wrong way.

"Yeah. We're okay." Nick said softly after a second and Warrick could see the truth in his eyes.

"That´s good," was all he said, then he opened the door and walked out. Nick stood there for a moment, then followed him.

xxxx

"Okay, I am faxing you the fingerprints," Nick spoke intothe phone and put the paper into the fax. He waited for the person on the other side to get the fax then put down the receiver, wearily leaning into the chair. He was currently alone in the lab, which he was thankful for. After his mishap in the bathroom, he and Warrick returnedhere, each of them looking through different pieces of evidence, trying to find the same suspect. It was already lunch when Grissom found them there and without much words sent them home. Nick had enough brain not to protest and in truth - he felt kinda tired. Maybe a few hours of sleep would help with the headache and the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Getting home, he headed straight for bed, hoping for sleep. It came, but along with it came the nightmares and Nick re-lived once again the scene in the parking lot, nowadded with the details of Gonzales´ dead eyes accusingly looking up at him from the trash. Nick woke with a start, popped several pills ofaspirininto his mouth and took off to work. He was a little early, but it only suited him. He needed time and peace to get through with the phone calls he planned.

Now two hours later, his eyes burned from the lack of real sleep and from staring into the scope. Nick rubbed them and hid a yawn. At least his headache was gone and on his way there, he bought himself a bagel. Thankfuly, it stayed down.

"I thought I sent you home."

Nick looked up, startled. Grissom was watching him from across the room, hands crossed on his chest.

"Uh, I was home, Gris. I got here just a while ago," Nick lied and knew he was busted the moment Grissom´s eyebrows rose.

"Really?"

Nick only shrugged. He didn´t felt the need to apologize to Grissom - not for being in work earlier, anyway.

"I needed to make some calls with people that don´t work in the night. Thought it would be better to do it now than tomorrow in the morning."

Grissom eyed him warily, but seemed satisfied with the answer.

"Find out anything new?"

"Maybe," Nick said, hesitant to reveal his idea in case it was wrong. But Grissom looked curious enough, with his head cocked to one side.

"Care to share?"

"I thought it would be good to talk with someone who knew Paul Mason. First, I called his wife. She wasn´t very communicative, but I learned a few interesting things. It looks like Mason had some trouble in work. She didn´t know the details - or she don´t wanted to tell me, but Igot as much as I could. Mason was an insurance investigator, he specialised in fire. Well, about a month ago, something happened to him. His wife didn´t know what, but she was sure it has to do with one of the cases he investigated. So I called into his work and after a little persuasion learned that there´s an investigation going on - but inside the insurance agency. Looks like there was a fraud and Mason became a suspect when he put up his resignation."

"What kind of fraud?" Grissom asked, frowning. They should´ve had those informations much sooner. As if reading his mind, Nick said:

"They just started the investigation two days after Mason left work, and it was an internal affair. No one wanted to broadcast it. As for the fraud," Nick sighed, rubbing at his temple, feeling the tension returning, "looks like Mason and some other peoplefalsified the protocols in several cases, thus making their company pay even when it was a sabotage."

"And you learned all this from a phone call?" Grissom wondered.

"Yeah well, hope you won´t kick me when you see the phone bill. It took more then one call, and I still don´t have all the details. But I managed to get the name of the agent who´s currently working on the case. Evidently, he didn´t evenknow Mason was dead. I sent him a short report and he promised he´ll fill us in the details, but he needed to consult it with his chief.. Until then, I sent him the unidentified prints we collected at the doors in Mason´s hotel you know they match the ones taken from the container, where Gonzales was killed. He will get the fingerprints of persons that worked with Mason and which they´re now investigating and he´ll send me back the results."

"Good work, Nick," Grissom acknowledged him and in reply got a half-grin.

"Thanks," Nick mumbled and stood, when the phone started ringing. Even before he took the call, the fax beeped and started printing out the paper. Grissom turned, leaving Nick in the lab, but he stopped short at Nick´s excited voice.

"You´ve got a match!"

Grissom turned and saw Nick nodding.

"Thanks, I would appreciate that. Yes, we´ll inform you. Okay." He finished the call and grabbed the paper, his eyes flashing through the contest. When he looked up at Grissom, he had a slightly satisfied look on his face.

"We´ve got a name, Gris."

xxxXXXxxx

"We´ve got a name, Gris." Nick looked up at him, his voice sounding almost unbelieving.

"Anyone we know?" Grissom asked, trying not to sound surprised, as he walked to Nick.

"No, don´t think so," Nick mumbled, now concentrating on the page. "The fingerprints belong to one Richard Dummont, from San Francisco, CA. He´s a co-worker of Paul Mason - the second half of his team."

As Grissom reached him, Nick handed out the paper and watched as Grissom´s eyebrows went up. He too saw the photo, although it wasn´t top quality, and they both could see the resemblance with their up till now unknownsuspect. By all means, this man fit the description of the employees from the restaurant to the tee.

"Do they know where he is right now?" Grissom asked, already picking up a phone.

"No, the agent I talked with was surprised as me. Whatever happened, they didn´t seem to be alarmed that their two suspects fled town. Probably thinking they just took a vacation, or something."

"Like you said, that was an inside investigation, and they could be lax. But we can´t be. Get on the phone with whomever you talked to back in California and tell them to put out an APB on Richard Dummont. I am calling Brass. Hopefully, he´ll be able to alert some of his colleagues in San Francisco to start looking for our killer."

Nick simply nodded and pulled out his cell phone, walking to the other end of the room, while Grissom talked with Brass. Nick had to look through his notes to find the right numbers and he prepared himself for another nerve eating hour on the phone, trying to persuade the right people.

When Grissom finished his call with Brass, Nick was already listening to a crazy jingle they were playing him repeatedly, along with a comment that he is on the line and should wait. He frustratedly pulled the phone from his ear, and looked at Grissom questioningly.

"Brass is working on it. At least he knows who to look for."

"What about Brenda? Does he have anything new?"

"No," Grissom shook his head and looked at Nick, sensing his concern.

"I just think we should find her, sooner than this Dummont guy. Something still doesn´t fit in all this."

"We'll figure it out all in time." Grissom tried to assure him.

"I have a feeling she doesn´t have much time." Nick mumbled and jerked, as the jingle in the phone stopped and he turned his attention to the call.

xxxxxxx

Despite his motives to look into the case and try to find some clues as toBrenda Lacke´s whereabouts, Nick´s plans were brought to end when a call from Det. Vega announced multiple shot gun victims in a restaurant. Whatever his plans, Nick along with the rest of the grave shift, had to head out. It took most of the night and early morning and it was almost eleven a.m. when Nick and Sara returned to the lab, going through the evidence. Warrick was still on the scene, finishing with the details, and Grissom with Catherine were in Desert Palms, waiting for the only living victim to give his statement.

All in all, it was a busy night and everyone was tired. At last Grissom called and gave them the rest of the missing details.

There were three victims. The first one died of a gun shot wound to his chest that hit him straight in the heart. The second - aparrently the shooter - had committed suicide with a shot into his head. The third one was a resident in Desert Palms, with a through and through shotgun wound to his left shoulder. All the victims were males, in their twenties and apparently lovers. At least, that was what the man laying in the hospital bed said between sobs to Grissom and Catherine.

"It´s a pretty straight case, Nick. Seems like the killer found out Fredricks and Johann werecheating on him, though he slept with both of them."

"Sounds like a damn soap opera," Nick commented and heard Grissom sigh.

"Did you get the fingerprints from the gun?"

"Yeah, I think it´s a clear case, Grissom. We´we got the gunshot residue on the hands of the killer. It was Gavin. He first shot Fredricks, killing him. Then he aimed at Johann, wounding him. When he realised what he had done, he turned the gun at himself and fired. We´re still waiting for the bulletanalysis, but..."

"That´s okay. We have Johann´s statement, as well as one of the waiters and two guests. I think we can close it."

"Yeah," Nick said, unconsciously rubbing at his temples. "It´s just crazy why people are killing each other."

Grissom heard the weariness in his voice and realised Nick probably didn´t get too much sleep in the last few days.

"Why don´t you finish it and head home, Nick? All of us could use some rest."

"You guys are coming back?" Nick asked, not at all excited by the offer. He knew once he get home, he wouldn´t be able to sleep. Even though he was tired, the prospect of the nightmares kept him alert. Also, there was the nagging feeling that he should do something - but what?

"Nick?" the voice brought him to the reality, and Nick grimaced at the concern he heard there.

"Sorry, just thinking. What did you say?"

"Go home, Nicky," Grissom sighed and ended the call before Nick could utter a sound of protest. Glaring at the phone, Nick put it down too and stood, pacing through the lab. He didn´t knew what he was looking for, but when he spotted the file laying on top of the table, he picked it up. It was the protocol from the interrogation of Brenda Lacke, and although Nick read it several times now, he still thought there wassomething he was missing.

Ten minutes later, when Sara walked into the room, she found the file laying open on the chair. There was also the notepad and pencil, and coming closer, she could see the imprint on the paper. She picked up the notepadand the pencil, and did what any detective would do. She scribbled across the top sheet of the notepad until she could read the imprint from Nick´s note, then she put it aside, frowning. Sara recognized the writing as Nick´s and wondered, what the hell was so important about the address Only when her look strained to the file did Sara remember. It was an address of the 24/7 Brenda Lacke was working at.

xxxxxxxx

He wasn´t surprised when his cell started to ring. One look at the display told him it was Sara. He was in temptation not to take it, but he was sure the second call would be one of Grissoms. He gingerly picked up the phone, while trying to navigate through the traffic. It was lunch time and the traffic was heavy, making it hard on already frayed nerves.

"Stokes," he spoke, trying to sound casual, although Sara could detect the slight annoyance.

"Where the hell are you going, Nick?" She asked, not really caring if he was mad.

"Why, home of course. Grissom practically ordered me to get some sleep."

"Yeah? So why do I have a feeling you´re out to shopping?" Sara bit back.

"You spying on me?" Nick felt the anger arising, though secretly he had to acknowledge Sara´s 'detective abilities'.

"Well, if you wouldn´t feel the need to lie to me-"

"I wasn´t lying!" Nick protested fiercely. "What, do I need to ask you for permission to go out?"

"Of course not, Nick," Sara retorted, equally pissed. "But we are working on this case together. I would appreciate if you tell me about any news. So, what´s your plan?"

"I don´t have a plan," Nick relented. "Just thought I should talk with Brandon."

"Why? We heard out the kid, he lied to us, we left him be. No new informations."

"Exactly."

"What?" Sara tried to hide the irritation, not succesfully. Nick could practically see the hand clutching the phone in deathly grip, the other one on her side, her whole posture threatening. Nick´s lips turned upwards in a grin.

"Look, just let me talk with the guy and I will call you back."

Sara rolled her eyes, and moved her hand off her side, brushing it through her hair and wondered why was she even so pissed. Nick was a grown up and a good CSI - he wouldn´t do anything stupid. She snorted. Who was she kidding? In his recent state, Nick would probably be the first one to do something stupid.

"What about Grissom?" she spoke, hoping for a reaction.

"You threatening me?" Nick asked and Sara could hear the smile in his voice. She sighed.

"Tell him I get off, that´s all," Nick took pity on her.

"Call me when you finish."

"Aye, sir," Nick spoke and Sara once again rolled her eyes, turning off the cell.

Nick smirked, sliding the phone back to his pocket. It was fun talking to Sara, much easier than with the others. Catherine was still in her mother mode and although Nick appreciated the concern, he didn´t feel comfortable with it right now. Warrick was concerned just the same, but after their little talk he gave Nick more breathing room and at least tried not to fuss. With Grissom it was entirely different. The man was a complete mistery to Nick. Sometimes he managed to do things that made Nick stare with open mouth. Other times he appeared almost insensitive toward the emotions of the others around him. But the 'appeared' was the key word there. Nick was sure that his chief wasn´t that unemotional genius that he often seemed to be, but a caring man who just didn´t know how to express himself. Or feared to. But in the end, Nick wouldn´t want them any other way.

All thoughts set aside, Nick parked the car and walked to the small shop. The street was full of milling people and he had to push around a group of chattering school kids. He threw an encouraging smile at the teacher who was trying hard to get the group away from the shop with candies. She smiled back at him, but her attention was quickly averted and turned away, shouting at the nearest kid who was just trying to put a chewing gum into the hair of a girl. Nick smirked, remembering his own school years. He was still smiling when he opened the door to the shop, but there his smile froze and he instinctively grabbed for gun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-reader: Sabrina

He was still smiling when he opened the door to the shop, but there his smile froze and he instinctively grabbed for his gun.

Nick tensed, his eyes scanning the shop, finally turning back to the pool of red between the shelves of canned dog food and corn flakes. There were several cans and some broken glass laying on the floor, all splattered in red. For a moment, Nick´s stomach churned at the sight, but he didn´t feel the coppery smell of the blood and that made him move closer, his gun still poised.

He looked around, trying to find someone - anyone, who worked in the shop, but it looked empty. He felt the goosebumps on his back as he knelt down, careful so as not to damage the evidence in case it was really needed. Now he was sure it wasn´t blood, because it was not the right texture or color. Sniffing in the air, Nick shook his head and snorted. Lucky there wasn´t anyone else, otherwise he would´ve made a pretty fool of himself. He put back his gun and stood up from the pool of ketchup mixed with tomato paste from the broken jar.

"Hello?" Nick shouted, thinking that perhaps whoever made that mess was trying to find something to clean it up with. But then he spotted the red print on the wall and this time he was sure it wasn´t ketchup. Nick gulped and pulled out his gun, this time slowly walking towards the shop counter. He glanced behind it, the gun ready for use. But there was no one. The case was closed and he could see the gun still on the inner side of the counter, just within reach of the cashier. Nick blinked inconfusion and turned, looking for some movement, listening for a sound. There wasn´t any, only his heart beating faster and faster. Keeping his back to the walls, he took his steps toward the door leading to the stockroom.

With each step, Nick´s breathing became harder and he felt the sweat trickling down his forehead. He knew this was absurd. He should just walk out and call the cops. But hell, he had enough of just standing behind, to let the bad guys run away. He wanted to do something right, to help the living, not the dead. He stepped into the stockroom and stood, frozen in place.

If he thought of the little puddle in the shop as a mess, he didn´t think so now. The stockroom looked as if it had been in the way of a hurricane. Nick remembered seeing the images from the inside of a shop after an earthquake and this was a similar view. True, the walls were still in one piece and the floor wasn´t at a weird angle, but everything else was. All the shelves were laying on the floor along with the material that was on them. And from beneath it all, there was a handsticking out.

"Oh God," Nick hissed, breaking through the shock. He fell to his knees and started pushing off the shelves, digging between the supplies and trying to find a pulse on that lonely hand. His fingers found the slight trembling and he hardened his effort, not caring about the evidence, about leaving his fingerprints everywhere. He just wanted to save the live of whoever was lying there.

Finally, pushing away the last of the shelves, he discovered the bloody and battered face. It was a young man, and even though he hadn´t seen him before, Nick knew who it was.

"Brandon?" he asked, touching the face, checking the pulse on the neck. The man moaned and it was the first sound Nick heard from him. Nick sighed out in relief.

"Brandon! Wake up. I need to know who did this to you."

No answer, not that Nick could´ve waited for one. Brandon looked almost dead, and if not for the pulse, he would already call the coroner, instead of the ambulance. But Brandon was still alive. Just like the person that did this to him.

While Nick called the ambullance, he carefully checked the boy. Hearing the raspy breaths, he knew the boy had probably broken a few ribs, one of them puncturing the lung. It would be easier for him to be sitting up a little, but Nick didn´t want to move him, from fear of aggravating his other injuries. So he just checked his airways and tried to wake him up, while he waited for the paramedics.

"Come on, Brandon. I need to know where Brenda is. Wake up," pleaded Nick, his hand laying on the battered face, as if to assure himself the boy was still alive. He didn´t hear the door opening, nor did he notice the surprised and rather angry yelp as someone discovered the mess in the shop. But he quickly swirled around and aimed his gun as aloud curse sounded behind him.

He met with the horrified stare of an older man. There was no gun in his hand and Nick relaxed a little, but he didn´t put down his own gun.

"Who are you?"

"D-dutch Jennigen. T-that´s my s-shop," the man stuttered, considerably paler every second. "T-take the money, just... l-lea-ve us," Jennigen said in a thick voice, and held his hands above his head. Nick blinked.

"What? No damn, I am not a thief!" he barked and lowered the gun. "I'm Nick Stokes, from the criminalists. I just wanted to talk with Brandon, but it looks like someone did it first."

The owner gulped, visibly relaxing when Nick wasn´t aiming at him anymore, but still scared.

"I-is he dead?" he asked, nodding at Brandon.

"No. But he´s bad. Do you know what happened?"

Jennigen shook his head.

"I was out for lunch."

"You don´t have any other employees?"

"Only Brenda, but... I don´t know where she is now. Did you... did you come because of her?"

"Yes. Look, I don´t have much time. Whoever did this to the boy, I think was after Brenda. Could he know where she is?"

Jennigen frowned, but ever so slowly, he gave a nod.

"He and Brenda were good friends. I think he´s in love with her, though she never reciprocated that feeling. But yeah, he would do anything for her."

Nick guessed so, seeing that Brandon lied to the cops for her sake.

"Where?"

"I don´t know, really," Jennigen shook his head.

"Does he have any place where he brings girls? An apartment? Is he living with his parents? Come on, you have to know at least something," Nick asked, getting more impatient with every passing minute.

"There is one place," Jennigen said, hesitantly and Nick looked at him.

"Where?"

xxxxxx

He knew he should´ve waited for the ambulance. Hell, Nick knew he would haveproblems just because he left the crime scene, plus, he didn´t stay there and wait for the cops. But these weren´t normal circumstances and Nick didn´t felt like waiting - on anyone. As soon as Jennigan told him the address, he left Brandon in his care with a warning that he shouldn´t allow any customers to get into the shop. Jennigan simply nodded and put out the Closed sign, then returned to the unconscious victim.

Nick rushed toward his car, turned on the ignition and stomped on the gas. It was a stupid thing to do, Nick realised, five minutes later. But one he needed. So driving as fast as he was allowed without being stopped by the cops, he was heading out of the city, only hoping that he wouldn´t be too late. He was a mile away from the shop when he realised he should call someone. He didn´t stop the car, nor did he slow down, but he knew that if he didn´t succeed, they would need to know what happened and where to look for him. So he put the phone into the car set and punched out the speed dial.

"Grissom? I think I need some help," Nick started.

"Where are you, Nick?" Grissom asked, sounding alert.

"I thought Brandon could help us. I went to the shop where Brenda worked, but I found it trashed. Someone beat the crap out of the boy, and I have a feeling it was Dummont. He was unconscious the whole time, I couldn´t get out of him where Brenda is, but the owner gave me an address. I'm on my way there."

"Wait!" Grissom all but shouted to the phone and Nick jerked. "What the hell are you doing Nick?"

"I am on my way there. If you want to help, Iadvise you get into the car and speed up, cause I don´t see Brenda has too much time. Or call the cops, I don´t care," Nick couldn´t believe he just spoke this way to Grissom, and apparrently Grissom couldn´t either.

"Stop the car, Nick. Gave me the address and stop that car, you understand?"

Nick gave him the address, but didn´t stop the car.

"It´s out of town, Gris. I'm already on my way. The cops won´t be quicker."

"I am not debating on this one, Nick," Grissom growled.

"Neither am I," Nick said and simply turned off his phone. "Neither am I," Nick repeated in whisper, knowing well enough there would be consquences. But he wasn´t afraid of them. As long as nobody elsegot killed today, he didn´t care about much more.

xxxXXXxxx

"I am not debating on this one, Nick," Grissom thought this was a clear enough command. But Nick wasn´t one to be commanded.

"Neither am I," he heard Nick say with determination. He didn´t hear from him for quite a long time, then he ended the call, leaving Grissom open mouthed, his Denali dangerously swerving on the road. Nick just hanged up on him? Grissom still pondered over it, when the blaring horn of a passing car and a raised middle finger brought him to reality. He cursed out loud, a thing he also didn´t do for a long time now and turned the car.

It didn´t take long to apprise Brass of the plan, and by now Grissom wasn´t the only one cursing. But just as Nick didn´t listen to his commands on stopping the car, Grissom waved off Brass when the detective said just the same.

"Whatever, you´re both pigheaded!" With that Brass slammed down the receiver and Grissom rolled his eyes. As if he could control Nick! And what had Jim thought? That he will leave one of his people to go into a possibly dangerous situation alone? No way in hell. Grissom speeded up the car, not even realising how alike his thoughts were to Nick´s.

xxxxx

The music was loud enough to push back the shrill ringing of his phone, but Nick still knew it was there. He turned on the radio, not really caring who was on the phone, though he needed to get his act together. The owner of the shop told him that Brandon had a trailer parked outside the city. There was a small camp with own electricity and water supplies. Nick was there once before, looking for evidence in a case of double murder. They found it in the trailer along with photos of the next victim, but the killer was already behind the bars.

Nick turned off the music as he arrived at the camp and slowing down, he drove the car around the trailers. Some of them were unused, looking deserted. Then there were the ones with clothes hanging all around, drying in the hot sun. Two kids were playing before a door but they fell silent as soon as they saw Nick´s car. Their eyes grew wide when he stopped the car and leaned out of the window.

"Hey, kids, can you tell me which trailer belongs to Brandon Kirsh?"

The kids pointed to their left, their huge eyes stopping at Nick´s clothes.

"You a cop?" the bigger boy with red hair asked and Nick smiled at him.

"Something like that. Did you saw someone else come here in the last hour?"

The kids looked at each other, than shrugged.

"We aren´t supp´sed to talk to strang´s," the young one said, frowning.

"He´s a cop, Jamie. We can talk to cops, mom said so. Mister... are you gonna arrest him?"

"Who?" Nick had a bad feeling in his stomach, but he tried to look normal, not wanting to scare the kids.

"That man. He looks really mean. And he was chasing that girl."

"What?" Nick yelped, then sighed as he saw the scared looks. "That´s okay, I'm not angry at you. Just tell me when did you saw that man?"

Again, the childrens exchanged a look and the older one shrugged.

"Just a moment ago. He came in that red Chevy. He didn´t stop though, he headed straight to Brandon´s trailer. We saw him kick on the door and heard the girl scream. They were fighting, but the girl kicked him in the uh... where it really hurts. The bad man was cursing, then he took off after her."

"Where did they run?"

"Think they´re in that old building, it used to be a hotel. Billy and I was inside only once - but it was really dark and creepy. Mom told us not to go in, cause we could fall through the floor, and-" Nick quickly thanked the kids and drove over to the building, hoping he wasn´t too late.

He knew the old hotel was built early in the twentieth century by the people who built the railroad. There was still a water reservoir, although now it was empty. He knew little of the history of Las Vegas, but he was aware of the importance of water and railroad to the existence of the city. Seeing now the empty, desolate hotel, he wondered why it wasn´t pulled down.

He saw the red Chevy still parked before one of the trailers, the door of which was hanging on the hinges, clearly it was kicked out.

Nick get out of the car, casting a glance at his cell phone. He quickly dialed and spoke as Grissom picked it up.

"I'm already there, Gris. Some kids saw Dummont fighting with Brenda. She ran off but he´s behind her. It´s an old hotel - the only building here, you should find it. I'm going in."

xxxx

"Nick, wait! I´m only two minutes away-" but his words were cut off by the beeping tone and Grissom once again cursed. He could already see the trailer camp and he knew that Brass with the backup were just minutes later. But would it be too late?

Grissom´s car raised dust and he rode around the two children that were now curiously watching from the safety of the trailer, their mother quietly sleeping inside.

xxxx

The sweat trickled down his temples and Nick doubted it had anything to do with the heat of the day. More like his nerves trying to let him know they didn´tlike it. Nick ignored the protests his mind screamed at him, probably because his mind sounded too much like Grissom.

He pushed open the door, noticing the blood on the handle as well as in the dirt on the floor. He was just glad that the door didn´t screech, though he had his doubts about the wooden floor. Carefully stepping inside the hotel, Nick was glad he didn´t rush in like the people before him. He still felt the tiny particles of dust in the air and raised his left hand to his nose and mouth, trying to push back the cough.

Blinking in the semi darkness, Nick looked around the hall, surprised how small it looked. There was a rusty reception desk to his right side, and by the marks on the floor, Nick guessed that at some time there was also a table and probably a couch, although those were long ago taken. Otherwise, the hall and reception were totally empty. No pictures on the walls, nothing, only dust and dirt. And trails.

Nick looked around, both hands on his gun. He was tempted to run up the stairs to the next floor, but he took a second to just listen. Not a sound, if he didn´t count his own heartbeat. Could it be he was already too late? Maybe it wasn´t Dummont or maybe Brenda was lucky and ran away. But it wasn´t likely and Nick knew that he couldn´t just get out and wait for backup.

He headed toward the stairs, intent on looking through the rooms, when he heard a sound. It was more like a gasp and Nick spun around, but there was no one in the hall, nor at the stairs. Blinking and gripping the gun with even more force, Nick took a deep calming breath. He could´ve called out, hell, he was supposed to do so, to identify himself as a policeman. But he didn´t care. He don´t wanted to give Dummont any chance of getting away. Giving him a warning just wasn´t in his plan.

He was already on the first floor when he heard the gasp once again, this time he could determine it came from a woman and his heart quickened. Maybe he wasn´t too late.

"Where is the knife?"

Nick jerked at the voice and stopped dead in his track. It came from one of the rooms before him, but he couldn´t tell which one. It was a man´s voice, dripping with venom and maybe a little too much confidence. The only reply was a soft moan, that turned into gasp.

"You bitch, tell me, or I will slash your throat just like I did to that bastard."

Nick took a step forward and froze as the wooden floor betrayed him.

"Shit," Nick silently cursed and quickly backed into the closest room, as he heard the door opening.

"What the hell was that!" the man shouted and Nick tensed, but otherwise didn´t move, didn´t breath. The room he was in was totally dark, there were no windows and by the stale air, Nick thought he was in some kind of closet or cleaning room. He left the door open mere inches, so he could see what was going on outside.

"You - hearing - things?" Brenda gasped as she was dragged out of the room.

"Shut up!" Dummont hissed, and she felt the knife digging deeper, the arm around her waist pressing harder. "Tell me where the hell is that damn knife that Gonzales kept talking about."

"You know... I can´t shut up and... talk. It just... doesn´t fit." she bit back, the panic getting the better of her. She knew whatever she told him, she was as good as dead. It was a stupid mistake to go to Brandon but at the time, he was the only one that wouldn´t turn her in to the cops. Now, feeling the pain in her bruised body and death breathing down her neck, Brenda thought she would be much better off behind bars. Damn Gonzales to hell, with his greed for money. If not for him... a hard kick into her legs reminded her she should be going.

"I won´t repeat the question. And I advise you answer it, otherwise I would deem our encounter as unsuccesfuland simply end it."

"You do that," Brenda thought . If she did know where that stupid knife was, she would´ve sent it to the cops the minute she learned Gonzales was dead. Now she would die, too.

"Where - is - the knife?" Dummont repeated the question and dragged her towards the stairs. He wasn´t sure what he heard, but he had enough of this old hotel. He still felt the dust filling his nostrils and he hated that.

Brenda opened her mouth, ready to say that she didn´t know, already feeling the knife cutting through her throat. But something to the right just caught her attention. She knew for sure that the door to the closet was the first Dummont opened in his pursuit of her, and she knew he didn´t waste the time to close it again. Now there was a slight crack and Brenda would´ve sweared someone was there, hiding. She stopped, her eyes scanning the stairs, as if wanting to make sure nobody was there. When her eyes paused on the closet door, she heard a soft gasp.

Nick could´ve kicked himself. He knew Dummont was getting closer by the nearing voices, and the screeching floor. He gulped, trying to push back the fear gripping his heart. He managed quite well, until Dummont, along with Brenda, stopped right before the closet. What made him gasp, though, was Brenda. She looked straight at him, as crazy as it sounded. But it was as if she knew he was there.

Dummont narrowed his eyes, turning slightly to the right.

"O-okay, I´ll... I'll show you where it is," Brenda said, suddenly finding her voice. She wanted to distract Dummont so that whoever was in the closet could take him down.

Nick gulped, trying to push back the fear gripping his heart. He heard what Brenda said, but by the look on her face he also realised that she was just playing for time, hoping someone would save her. And that someone was now hiding in the closet like a coward. Nick´s jaw clenched as he gripped the gun. It was the only safety he had and he wasn´t about to let go.

But there was no way in hell he could shoot Dummont without endangering Brenda. Dummont had her in his grasp, effectively shielding his own body with her. He knew he should just take the chance and shot him in the head - but he also knew he wasn´t capable of just killing the man, and even less chance he would risk hitting Brenda. The girl looked so young, more like a child than a woman. Her huge eyes trailed toward the closet and he saw the absolute hope in them. It was as if someone stabbed him in the gut, slowly turning the knife.

As the duo approached the stairs, leaving the closet behind, Nick slowly opened the door and took a step outside, his gun trained on Dummont´s head.

"You better not lie, bitch. Your face is too pretty to end up in pieces. Cause that´s what I´ll do if I don´t get that knife, you understand?"

Brenda nodded, then frowned. Did she just seea movement down the stairs or was it only her imagination?

Nick took a step forward and instantly regretted it as the floor betrayed him. Dummont spun around with Brenda in her arms.

"Put down the gun," Dummont hissed angrily at Nick. He was aiming the gun at Dummont but there was no way to hit him without the bullet going through Brenda first. Nick cursed and kept on cursing when Dummont pulled the girl closer to him, the knife at her neck turning red with new blood. He heard her gasp out in pain and fear, the eyes wide, but still trusting.

"Leave her, Dummont. We already know you killed Gonzales and Mason, too. We found your fingerprints all over both places." Dummont flinched at Nick´s words, then grinned, his eyes turning even darker and Nick saw the craziness creeping in there.

"We can end this without any more deaths," Nick tried, but Gonzales shook his head.

"Put down that gun, hotshot, or I´ll just cut her throat right here. Come on!" Dummont shouted and Brenda whimpered. It was the pain in her face that brought Nick to do the stupidest thing that he ever did. The words of his instructor from the school resounded in his head loud and clear.

"Never put your gun down. Never. First rule is - keep yourself alive. You won´t help anyone dead."

He should´ve listened to the voice, but right now he could only look into Brenda´s clouding eyes and see the blood running down her neck. To hell with rules - he wasn´t a cop anymore.

"Okay. I'm putting the gun down," Nick said and with slow motions, put the gun on the ground.

"Kick it over to me," Dummont commanded.

Nick looked at Brenda and was surprised to see the fear turn into anger. She was now scowling at Nick, as if daring him and he blinked. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, although her lips were moving. Nick watched them and read the silent plea. He nodded at Dummont as if agree with his command, but it was more of a signal to Brenda.

"Okay," Nick said and kicked into the gun, sending it far away from both him and Dummont.

"What the hell? I said kick it to me!" he shouted and the hand gripping the knife lowered. Brenda´s eyes fluttered as she felt the pressure on her neck abate. She also saw the encouraging nod and knew what she had to do. With all the force she could muster, she showed her elbow into the stomach of her attacker.

Dummont gasped and bent a little, screaming in rage. Brenda pulled free of his hold and took several wobbly steps to the side. Dummont grabbed for her, catching only her leg. She kicked out and he released the grasp, but she lost her balance and fell.

Dummont raised the hand holding the knife and lashed out at her.

Nick was pulled out of his stupor as he saw the glinting knife heading right at Brenda. He leapt at Dummont, at the unprepared killer.

Neither of the men knew about the man standing on the stairs and aiming his gun at Dummont. Neither of them saw the man pulling the trigger, just as Nick collided with Dummont.

For a moment, everything went deathly still. Then the two bodies, entangled in fight, dangerously swayed. There was nothing that could stop their fall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-reader: Sabrina

The momentary stillness was cut short as both Nick and Dummont dangerously swayed. Dummont took a faltering step back, but there was only air and he grasped at the only thing within his reach.

"Nick!" The cry left his mouth mere seconds after he pulled the trigger. Grissom watched the scene before him unfold in slow motion. He thought it was the only chance. He heard Dummont ordering Nick to put his gun down, he heard the angry shout when Brenda kicked him in the gut. He saw the girl stepping away from harm, saw Dummont grabbing her and sending her sprawling to the ground. The knife glinted as Dummont lashed out and Grissom knew there was no time for a warning. Nothing short of a bullet could stop the crazy man from killing.

Grissom pulled the trigger.

But something went wrong. Dummont wasn´t supposed to move the way he moved. It took a second but Grissom saw the reason and his mind went numb. The eyes looking back at him in surprise didn´t belong to Dummont.  
When Nick collided with Dummont, he managed to kick the knife out of his hand. But he wasn´t prepared for the bullet flying at him. Dummont jerked when the shot went straight through his shoulder. Nick felt the impact but the pain didn´t come. Just surprise as Dummont grabbed at him. Nick could only look at Grissom in shock as the killer lost his balance and pulled him down.Grissom watched, almost fascinated as the two bodies started their rapid descent down the stairs. Just a bunch of limbs, the men cried out every time they hit the stair or the wall. Grissom only too late realised that if they didn´t stop, he would get caught up and probably knocked down like a bowling pin. Jumping out of the way at the last second, Grissom landed at the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Nick stopping his descent against the wall, Dummont next to him. Somehow in the fall, Dummont still managed to maintain his grip on Nick´s shirt.

Grissom pointed the gun at Dummont, trying to catch his breath and desperately seeking any sign of life from Nick. Both men lay still, not uttering a sound as Grissom slowly approached them.

"Nick?" Grissom said , his voice soft although he wanted to scream. The only response came in the form of a cough, and it belonged to Brenda. Grissom didn´t dare to turn and look at her in fear that Dummont just pretended to be unconscious.

"Brenda? Are you okay?" he shouted and felt a partial relief when the girl replied.

"Y-yes. I-is he dead?"

"No," Grissom replied sourly, seeing the rise and fall of Dummont´s chest. He slowly walked to Nick, his gun never leaving Dummont´s still form. Grissom knelt down and put two fingers on Nick´s neck, wanting to convince himself he didn´t in reality kill Nick. But the pulse was there, beating strongly, and Grissom let out a relieved sigh.

"Nick? Come on, I need you to wake up," he spoke to his fallen friend, trying to ascertain the severity of his injuries. He only prayed that the bullet aimed at Dummont didn´t hit Nick.

The moan and the blinking eyes stopped him in mid movement. He was never happier to see those two brown eyes looking at him, however dazedly.

"Gris?" Nick mumbled as the blurry figure leaned closer. "What the hell..." he gasped, feeling the various bruises coming alive. "Shit," Nick mumbled and for a moment closed his eyes.

"Nick? Don´t fall asleep on me," came the harsh reply and despite the headache, Nick opened his eyes.

"What happened?" Nick asked and turned his head, trying to alleviate the pain. But instead of the cold wall, his eyes fell on the unconscious figure and suddenly it all came back to him. With a gasp, Nick pulled away from Dummont, batting away the hand still gripping his shirt. Grissom pried the fingers open, while his other hand pushed Nick back to the floor.

"Don´t move. You took a nasty fall down the stairs. You could´ve injured your back or neck."

"Let me," Nick growled. "My back is just fine," he hissed and backed away from Dummont. Once he couldn´t go further, he leaned against the wall.

"Is he dead?"

Grissom once again stated that no, Dummont was still alive. The moan coming from the man was evidence enough and Nick jerked. Grissom leaned over the killer, checking his state. He saw the red stain growing on the man´s shoulder and debated whether to try and stop the bleeding or not, but the bleeding didn´t seem too serious and Grissom definitely wasn´t in for tending to the killer. He checked him over more to ensure himself that Dummont didn´t have more weapons. He suddenly regretted the absence of handcuffs.

"Brenda?" Nick asked and Grissom risked a look up the stairs. Following his look, Nick saw the girl sitting on the highest stair, holding a piece of cloth over her neck. The paleness on her face was even more pronounced by the angry bruise on her cheek and the blood on her clothes, but at least she was alive.

"You the CSI guys?" she asked in small voice. Grissom´s eyebrows rose quizically and Nick grinned in reply.

"Just wanted to say... thanks."

"You´re welcome," Grissom said simply and turned as he heard a noise.

"Whoa, don´t shoot," Jim Brass said as Grissom´s gun trailed towards him. "We´ve got him. It´s alright now," the detective assured them, nodding to two officers who were already kneeling next to Dummont, assuring themselves he was not a danger anymore.

"Davie, call it in. The ambulances are already on the way, boys. Should I say this was the stupidest thing you did?"

Grissom opened his mouth to agree with Brass, scowling at Nick, but Brass stopped him.

"I meant it for both of you, Grissom. You are no better than this one."

With that, Brass headed to Brenda, leaving the two CSI´s alone. Grissom turned at Nick, who had some trouble to hide his smile. But it faltered as soon as he saw the angry look on Grissom´s face.

"You-" Grissom opened his mouth but didn´t know what to say. He just stood there, feeling all the anger and fear joining and throwing a party inside his heart. He still couldn´t get the image of Nick, shot with his own gun, out of his head.

Nick must´ve seen it, because he too opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Gris?" he finally managed, and the man before him visibly jerked.

"Don´t." Grissom hissed and turning on his wheels, stormed from the building, leaving behind two confused officers and a startled Nick.  
Brass found him standing outside the hotel, leaning against his car with a frown on his face. He walked up to him and waited in silence for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"They are taking Nick in for a check up, but he should be okay. Mostly bruises and a graze on his left arm," Brass spoke, trying to bring Grissom out of his thoughts. It worked as Grissom´s head shot up.

"He was shot!" the CSI snapped.

"Like I said - just a graze," Brass didn´t understand why it angered Grissom when just a moment ago he looked almost oblivious to what was going on with Nick. But as he watched the man closer, Brass realised that Grissom was looking rather pissed - and guilty. A weird combination to say the least. "Dummont had a gun?" Brass asked suddenly.

"No," Grissom shook his head, and Brass grimaced at his next words.

"I was the one pulling the trigger."

"The bullet must´ve gone through Dummont´s shoulder then caught Nicky in the arm," Brass noted and shook his head. "Shit Grissom, it wasn´t your-" but Brass stopped. He didn´t like the look in Grissom´s eyes and he was sure Nick wouldn´t like it either.

"Don´t be too hard on the kid. He was doing what he thought was right."

Grissom was already heading towards the ambulance where Nick was taken care of, but he stopped.

"What he did was plain stupid," Grissom growled. "He could´ve been killed."

"Well, the apple doesn´t fall far from the tree," Brass muttered,loud enough for Grissom to catch it.

"What does that mean?"

"Only that you didn´t had any more sense than Nick, rushing here like that. I told you the same as you told him - stay put and wait for backup. I think you both should get your hearing checked out, cause you sure as hell don´t listen." Brass don´t wanted to bark at Grissom, but he couldn´t help it. When he saw the anger in the other man´s eyes, he knew that Nick would get more than he could take right now. And it was not like Brass wasn´t pissed at Grissom.

Now they both stood in silence, regarding each other. Finally, Grissom let out a sigh.

"I still need to clear this up" he said to Brass before walking to the ambulance. The detective followed him with his gaze, until Grissom climbed in next to Nick. Then he walked towards the other ambulance with the still unconscious Dummont and nodded at the EMT that they could take off, sending a car to follow the ambulance, while one of the officers rode inside with the killer.

xxxXXXxxx

Nick hissed in pain as the paramedic applied the bandage to his arm. He was still confused by what happened inside the building, but the presence of the girl was a relief in itself. As long as nobody was seriously hurt, Nick thought they were pretty lucky today. Brenda had an ugly laceration on her neck and several bruises on her body, but that was all. Although scared, the girl was much calmer. She let the paramedics take care of her injuries, but when they wanted to take her in, she refused, fearing she wouldneed to ride in the same car as Dummont. One of the EMT´s assured her she could ride with Nick and she relaxed, making herself comfortable on the passanger seat next to the driver.

„Will he live?" Nick almost jumped off the stretcher when he heard the question. He didn´t saw Grissom approaching and the man´s voice was anything but cheerful. Nick gulped, trying to prepare himself for the lecture.

„Yeah. He was lucky he didn´t break his neck in the fall. We are taking him in for some x-rays just to be sure there are no hidden injuries."

„And the girl?"

„She will probably need a plastic surgeon to look at that cut, but it´s nothing life threatening." The medic finished bandaging Nick´s arm.

„Okay, if you don´t need us hereanymore, we´re ready to get these two to the hospital."

„Just a second - I need to talk with Mr. Stokes." Nick winced at the cold tone and the medic looked at Grissom questioningly.

„It really won´t take long. Please, can you leave us alone?"

The EMT knew Grissom, as he happened to be called to several scenes, but more than that he knew the man´s reputation. With a sigh, he nodded and climbed out of the ambulance.

„Call me when you finish."

Nick looked at the retreating EMT with resentment, but that quickly vanished as he looked at Grissom. The man climbed into the ambulance and seated himself on the vacated place of the EMT. What made Nick shiver though was the eeriesilence. Grissom´s jaw was clenched and his look distant, but Nick could still tell he was enormously pissed.

A minute passed and neither of the men said anything. Nick was getting nervous and the headache and the throbbing in his arm didn´t help any. He squirmed and rubbed at the bandage, wincing.

„I could´ve killed you today." A simple statement, uttered in an unemotional voice.

Nick blinked, confused, and Grissom pointed at his arm.

„That was my bullet."

Nick gulped. He replayed the scene on the stairs and grimaced as he remembered the exact moment when Dummont´s body jerked and pulled him down. He pictured the horrified look on Grissom´s face, felt his own surprise at seeing him there, at the bottom of stairs.

„Damn," he mumbled, not aware of what the word meant to Grissom. As if struck by lightning, Grissom stood and was about to climb off the ambulance, when Nick grabbed his arm, stopping him.

„No, I didn´t meant it like that," Nick quickly spoke, startled by the reaction. „I just... I am sorry. I didn´t know you were there." He thought it would calm Grissom, but he got the opposite reaction.

„Yes, you should be sorry!" Grissom said, his voice cold and angry. „I told you to stay outside and wait for us. But you didn´t listen. I aimed that gun at Dummont because I thought you werefar away from him! You weren´t supposed to be there at all."

Nick wanted to say something, anything to wash away the guilt he knew Grissom was feeling, but he wasn´t prepared for the next words.

„Dammit Nick, if you have a death wish, don´t make me be the one to pull the trigger!"

Nick blinked, unable to hide the shock and hurt from his face, but it was anger that allowed him to reply.

„That was low even for you," he said, not louder than a whisper, but it showed Grissom he wenttoo far.

„I didn´t disobey you just because of some fancy idea I got. I knew Brenda didn´t had time and I was right. Maybe it wasn´t the brightest thing to do, but I did it, and I won´t apologise for that." Nick´s eyes were spitting fire as he continued.

„I don´t have a death wish, Grissom. Whatever made you think that, you thought wrong. While it was your bullet that hit me, it was my choice to jump at Dummont, and I reckon if you wouldn´t have been there, it would´ve been the only one. Now if you´re finished, my head is killing me and I would really like to get this over so I can return home." Closing his eyes, Nick leaned back on the stretcher, his good arm raising to his head, trying to rub away the soreness behind the eyes. He waited to hear Grissom climb out, but the man didn´t move.

The soft voice surprised him.

„I´m sorry. I shouldn´t have said that. It´s just... you scared me today, Nick." Grissom, never one who easily showed his emotions, shrugged uncomfortably, but determined to impress upon Nick how terrified he had been throughout the whole situation and how it had affected him when he realized he had shot Nick.

„Don´t do it ever again, Nicky. I don´t want to make the call to your parents if something goeswrong."

Nick looked over at Grissom and at the expression on his face and all the anger Nick felt drained away, replaced by a weary acceptance.

„You won´t have to, Grissom," He said quietly and Grissom´s mouth twitched.

„Good. Because if you show me a repeat of this, I will kick you out of Vegas sooner than you can say ouch."

Nick snorted, looking dubious.

„I mean it, Nick," Grissom spoke, serious again. „If you want to play hero, go to the cops. We are scientists. We study evidence, and show it in the courts. That´s all. If you are looking for some excitement..."

„Nah, I think I had enough of that to last for months, thanks."

Grissom nodded and climbed out of the ambulance, letting the impatient EMT slide on his place and close the door. A minute later the ambulance was gone and Grissom was left with the unpleasant task to update the others of the recent events. With a sigh he took out his cell and turned away from a smirking Jim Brass.

Brenda Lacke was sitting in the interrogation room, her neck bandaged and the bruise on her cheek slowly fading. It was two days from the event in the hotel and she was constantly „questioned" about the matter. She had just enough of it when Brass called her in this morning, but after he assured her they wouldn´tbother her anymore until court, she relented to the meeting.

She was nervously rubbing at the bandage around her neck. Despite the words of the doctor who assured her earlier that day that the scar wouldn´t be bad and with a little surgical help it shouldn´t be seen at all, she had her doubts. But whatever her appearance might suffer, she was thankful for the fact that she could see another day.

Sitting opposite her was Nick, his face equally bruised from the fall down the stairs, but he was already back at work, although not cleared for the field work. It didn´t bother him too much, his body needed some time to heal and he didn´t feel fit for all the bending , kneeling and such on the crime scene. And even if Grissom didn´t say it out loud, he was sure the older man planned a punishment for his reckless behavior, he just didn´t know what it was and that made him quite nervous.

„I still don´t know why I'm here. I think I answered most of your questions."

„Well howabout you start from the beginning?" Brass spoke. He already knew the story, but he also knew both Nick and Grissom deserved to hear it from Brenda herself, not just read it from the report.

Brenda looked around nervously, her eyes stopping on Nick and Grissom. Somehow the nearness of those two men gave her a feeling of security and peace. They were there, saw what happened, damn they practically saved her life. Maybe she really owed them the truth.

„I met Paul Mason probably two years ago on a vacation. I was spending a week down in San Francisco with some girls from school. You know how it is - a night at the bar and I woke up in a hotel room when Paul started gathering his clothes. I gave him my e-mail address along with my phone number and really didn´t think he would call. But... he called the same day and we started meeting."

„Did you know he was married?"

„Yeah, he told me right away that he´s not looking for a long term relationship and that he doesn´t want a divorce."

„It didn´t anger you?" Nick wondered. He wouldn´t be able to start a relationship knowing that the woman he loved was already someone´s wife. But it seemed that Brenda didn´t havethose scrupules. She just shrugged, looking at Nick funny.

„I knew it wouldn´t have a future. We were from different places. It wouldn´t work between us for a long time, if you know what I mean." Brass didn´t but he nodded, because he wanted to get on with more pressing matters.

„Why did you lie to us about you two?"

Brenda shrugged, then realised it probably wasn´t the best move as her neck protested.

„Guess I didn´t wantyou to think of Paul as some cheating bastard. He loved his wife and kids, it was just all too hard on him. His wife doesn´t work and they had a mortgage on their house - he had to work hard to get the money. That´s how it all started."

„You mean his business with Dummont?"

„I knew nothing about Dummont until three weeks ago when Paul called me that he was coming to the city. Once we met at the hotel, he told me everything."

„Do you know what kind of business Mason had with Dummont?"

„They were working together as investigators in an insurrance company. They specialised in property insurance. I don´t know whatit´s called really, but Paul explained it to me. Their company made a contract with someone who wanted to cover his properties, in this case a building. The contract said that the company will pay the owner of the building if said building is damaged by fire, flood, hurricane or whatever. Paul and Dummont were supposed to get a report from the fire inspector and be sure that it wasn´t a hoax or that the fire wasn´t intentionaly set by the owner. If it was, they couldn´t pay out the insurance."

„If I'm not mistaken, this is quite legal," Brass noted, his eyebrows raised in question.

„Yeah, if you don´t work along with the fire inspector and a few other people, like the owner of the building. If said building isn´t useful anymore or if its price goesdown for some reason, the owner starts a fire, then collects the money from the insurance. He gives some percentage to all people involved and everyone is satisfied."

„So what went wrong?" Nick asked, his interest raising. Brenda shot him a lopsided grin, then looked at Brass.

„They didn´t know that there was a person in the building when the owner set it on fire. A homeless guy, but Paul was pretty shaken up."

„He wanted to quit?"

„Yes. Already did it, but he was afraid of Dummont and the others involved, so he packed and came here, thinking he would be safe. He was wrong." Brenda´s face clouded, the emotions still painful, like the wounds she sustained.

„You saw what happened to Paul." The quiet statement brought Brenda´s face up and she looked straight at Nick. Something in his eyes caught her attention. There was sympathy and understanding and she welcomed it without words, because she needed it.

„Like I said before, I was in the bathroom. I really didn´t know what wasgoing on, until Paul called Dummont by name. Then I heard Paul scream and when I looked out, I s-saw that man, s-stabbing Paul. I didn´t know what to do, I was so scared that he would do the same to me, that I... I just locked myself up in the bathroom. I stayed there until I was sure Dummont left and then I ran out."

„That was when you called Peter Gonzales," Brass noted, taking a look into the files.

„So you dated both Gonzales and Mason at the same time?"

Brenda jerked at those words and Nick glared at Brass. The detective sighed.

„I am sorry, it was an impolite question."

„Paul Mason was my lover, that´s true, but I didn´t see him everyday. We met once or twice a year and we both knew there wouldn´t be any real relationship. Pete Gonzales was my friend. We were seeing each other, but it was sporadic."

„But you still turned toGonzales when there was a problem."

„Damn it, I was scared and Pete was the only one that could help me out!" Brenda said, getting angry.

„That´s okay, no one is judging you," Nick tried to calm her, glaring pointedly at Brass, who just rolled his eyes.

Up until now, Grissom didn´t said a word, only observing, but now he felt a need to speak, as it looked like the other two men forgot why they were truly there.

„It was Gonzales who got the idea of stealing the evidence?"

Brenda looked at him, slightly startled.

„Or it was you who got the idea to blackmail Dummont?"

„Pete needed money and thought it would be easy. He contacted Dummont, who then sent the money to pay the bail. The rest you probably know better than I."

„Why didn´t you come tus when you learned Gonzales was killed?"

„Would you have believed me then?" she asked sarcastically.

„Yes, we would´ve," came the reply and Brenda hunched her head, letting the tears flow.  
It was a week later when Nick was finally cleared for field work. He walked into the lab, feeling almost as excited as he was the first day. He still pondered his luck, when he stepped into the conferrence room. If he didn´t count the chewing out he got from Grissom in the ambulance, the lectures from Catherine and Warrick, or Sara´s gibing, he came out of it without any repercussions. It was a surprise as upon his first meeting with Grissom the man looked like he would just love to issue some sort of punishment for Nick, but except for several weird glares, Grissom did nothing. Nick was waiting for the proverbial shoe to dropthe whole week while he was restricted to labwork, and by now he started to think that Grissom really did forgivehim for his rash actions.

He realised he was wrong when Grissom started giving out assigments.

„Catherine - questionable suicide in the church. Take Sara with you," Grissom gave them the file. Nick frowned as Grissom turned to him, seeing the sparks in his eyes.

„Male body found inside the sewer system. The body is still stuck there. They need to uh, cut off the leg to take it out, but before that they want someone to look there, take photos and so on. It´s all yours Nick."

Nick gaped at his chief in utter disbelief. Did he just saw a satisfactory smirk cross Grissom´s face? And what about the laughter he heard? Surely it wasn´t coming from his best friend Warrick. While Nick stood frozen with the file in his hand, trying to convince his mouth it should start moving and utter a heartful protest, Grissom and Warrick left.

Maybe this was it, the punishment for his rash actions. Maybe if he finished the case, it wouldall be over and Grissom wouldjust forget, Nick thought when his brain started working again. But remembering the spark in those eyes, Nick doubted it.

The End


End file.
